


All I Ever Wanted

by theblacksmith



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baker!Sansa Stark, Doctor Clegane, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I write the Au's no one wants, Mentions of past abuse, Protective Sandor Clegane, Self-Esteem Issues, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-04-06 12:24:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19062637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblacksmith/pseuds/theblacksmith
Summary: Sansa Stark has built herself from the ground up. After an abusive relationship leaves her with scars on the outside and inside, she uses her business degree and love of baking to start up her own bakery.Avoiding love at all costs, Sansa was not prepared for the man that walked through her doors and unraveled everything she thought she knew.When Sansa and Sandor are thrown into an uncomfortable situation, they both just might find they aren't alone after all...





	1. A Bolt From The Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I write modern settings and the thought of Sandor being a doctor would not leave my mind. Also, why not throw in the worst possible thing that can happen to the two of them and make this story insane lol 
> 
> All I can say is I don't regret this at all.
> 
> I really hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> Much love <3

                                                                

_**There, you were there, you were there in your armor** _  
_**Stare, saw red in your eyes, and I was under** _  
_**Sky, in the sky, in the sky I was falling** _  
_**Scared, I was scared, I was scared, and then you caught me** _

_**∞** _

The bell of the bakery sounds, Sansa calls out from the back that she will be with them in a moment. She grabs a new tray of chocolate chip cookies, striding back to the front not paying much attention as she hurriedly deposits the cookies into their section of the display window. Wiping her hands off on her apron, she stands to lift her eyes to meet the customers but the words she was about to say get caught in her throat as she takes in the man before her.

It is his staggering height that she notices first above all else. She herself is a tall woman and hardly runs across many men that can make her feel small. However, this man does just that with how tall and massive he is. The suit he wears molds to his body, showcasing his intimidating form.

She forces her eyes to meet his and her breath hitches when she sees the burns that mar the left side of his face, his midnight hair combs over to that side in an attempt to hide them from sight. The side that is not burned is quite handsome with sharp cheekbones and a heavy brow that leads to a strong jaw from what she can see through his scruffy beard. His nose is large and hooked but only suffices to make him look more like a Grecian god. Her gaze finally returns to his eyes, she sees a hint of disdain swarming in his grey orbs.

“Lemon cake and a black coffee,” he rasps, his voice a deep timbre that unnerves her.

“O-Of course,” she stammers, her hands shake as she grabs a set of tongs plucking one of the larger lemon cakes out and shoves ∞it inside a paper bag. She folds it, placing it on the counter, and pours a cup of black coffee begging her hands to steady. Placing a lid on it, she sets it beside the lemon cake. “That will be three dollars please.” She is unable to lift her eyes to meet his and she can feel the anger radiating off of him as he shoves three crisp dollar bills in her direction. His large hands grab his items and he’s out the door without even muttering thanks.

On his way out he practically runs into Sansa’s younger sister Arya. Arya yells something at him, flipping him the bird. She watches the mammoth of a man cast a dark look over his shoulder but he continues on his way ignoring Arya’s sharp tongue.

Arya stomps up to the counter, her leather combat boots creating dirt streaks on the ground. Sansa sighs knowing she will have to be the one to clean up after her, something she has had to do most of her life when it comes to her wild child of a sister. “What was with that asshole?” She spat, searching the display case with her steel-colored eyes.

“I didn’t think to ask,” Sansa teases earning a sharp look from Arya.

“He was an ugly fuck, probably why he feels the need to be a complete asshat.”

“Don’t be rude,” Sansa chides, shaking her head as she wipes the counter off with a rag.

 It was obvious the guy had gone through a traumatic experience, it couldn’t have possibly been his fault how he earned his scars. He also wasn’t ugly at all to Sansa and she had been embarrassed to look him in the eye, worried he might see just how handsome she thought he was. Now, she figured she had been rude to avoid his gaze. She would probably never see him again anyway. After the way she treated him, he would no doubt avoid her bakery like the plague.

Arya rolls her eyes. “What, you thought he was pretty?”

Sansa doesn’t speak, paying extra attention to a spot of coffee that refused to come off the counter. “Oh god, Sansa, you _did_ think he was hot! You are _so_ weird!”

“Shut your mouth. You’re the one who has the hots for some mechanic who can hardly afford to pay rent,” Sansa hisses and immediately regrets what she said seeing the look in Arya’s eyes.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“Whatever, Sansa. You never got defensive when I talked shit on your last lover boy.”

Sansa burns at the thought of her ex-boyfriend. Joffrey had been not only verbally abusive but physically as well. She still wore the scars from his countless beatings. Thankfully, Joffrey was spending his days behind bars. She knew one day he would be able to roam the streets but until then she wouldn’t think about the worst.

She learned quite quickly that not all things that were beautiful to look at could be considered good. Joffrey hid behind his inviting blue eyes, blonde hair like an angel’s, and friendly smiles. It had been too late when she discovered he was nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“I shouldn’t have brought that up,” Arya murmurs, a look of shame upon her face.

“Let’s just drop this. You’re here for a reason, so get on with it.”

“Have you made an appointment for your pap smear yet?” She says cheekily.

Sansa wants to hit her sister for how blunt she can be but finds herself laughing instead. The tension between them lifting instantly. “I don’t even want to think about that right now,” Sansa groans, covering her face with one hand. She had to get one when she turned twenty-one and now at twenty-four she was due for another.

“Obviously I came to tease you mercilessly about that and to eat as many of your chocolate chip cookies as I can. Hand them over, sis,” Arya says, sticking out her tongue.

It is Sansa’s turn to roll her eyes as she stuffs a handful of cookies into a bag for her sister and hands them over the counter to her. “You owe me.”

“That’s what you always say. Now, go take care of yourself.”

“You know you’re close to having to get one too, right?”

Arya shrugs her shoulders, shoving a cookie into her mouth, crumbs fall to the ground. “I don’t care about someone seeing me down there.”

“Even if it’s a man?”

Arya snorts. “I could care less. It’s not like the guy really wants to be looking down there in the first place. He’s just doing his job.”

“That’s what you think. Seriously, what guy willingly decides to be a gynecologist?”

“Seriously, Sansa, it’s not a big deal if a guy doc sees you down there. He’s probably seen a hundred by now and could care less about what yours looks like. They probably all have blurred together at this point.”

Sansa pins Arya with a glare, not wanting to discuss this topic any further. “I gave you your damn cookies. Time to go.” She shoos her sister out the door, Arya laughs, funneling cookie after cookie into her mouth. Sansa sighs in relief once she was gone, no longer pestering her about silly things.

She really did have to make that appointment to her utter dismay. Pulling out her phone she did what she had to do. The better to get it over with than prolong it.

Next Wednesday she would face her doom, until then she would put it out of sight, out of mind.

∞

His eyes roam over the countless appointments he has lined up for the day. Most of them are physical exams, others regarding people with cold and flu symptoms who most likely want a doctor’s note to get out of work, and a couple of pap smears that make him want to cut his head off. He had never been fond of performing the exam due to the way the women would avoid his gaze the entire time and practically shake with disgust that a man such as him was daring to lay a hand on them.

He thinks about the woman from the bakery, about the way she could hardly look him in the eye. She was too beautiful for her own damn good. He despised the emotions she stirred inside him when she lifted those pretty blues to meet his gaze. He hated the look in her eyes when she finally saw his face and the scars he could never hide no matter how hard he tried. He knew she was immediately put off by the way he looked, she had kept her eyes to the ground when she handed him his lemon cake and coffee. He had wanted to take a handful of her flame-colored hair in his fist and demand she look at him, demand she not cower away from him like everybody else.

Instead, he stormed out of the bakery only to be flipped off by some pea-sized kid. His day only proceeded to get worst. It seemed like the odds were against him and so were many of his patients who demanded they be treated by a man that didn’t scare the living daylights out of them.

He had worked his ass off to be a doctor so he wouldn’t wind up going down the same route as his piece of shit father and brother. His father wound up getting himself in a load of debt and found himself dead in a ditch. As for his brother, he was a no-good son of a bitch that raped countless girls, took a bunch of drugs, and finally met his doom at the hands of a father that couldn’t handle what Gregor did to his daughter.

Sandor refused to be like either one of them. He may not be the nicest or warmest guy around but that was mostly due to the fact he bore the scars of what his brother did to him not only on the outside but also on the inside. He tried to not come off as a complete asshole, still, people could be exhausting, and his temper would find the end of its rope when people felt the need to be unnecessarily rude about his appearance.

When the day finally did come to an end, he had been called so many names he almost quit his job on the spot. He had to force himself to remember the ten years he devoted to schooling and how much he did love his job. He wanted to be a doctor to help others and even with his disfigurement, it didn’t stop him from getting a job right out of college. Most doctors were used to seeing such scarring and it hardly fazed them. His patients, on the other hand, took time to warm up to him but when they did get to know the man underneath the rough exterior; they treated him with respect and kindness. Still, not all patients warmed up to him and he had to live with that.

Sighing, he takes his glasses off pinching the bridge of his nose, hoping this day would go by faster than it probably would. He hardly ever did pap smears. It had completely slipped his mind that he agreed to help out a fellow doctor who was the regular gynecologist for the hospital because they were going on vacation. He didn’t want to see the way the women’s faces would fall realizing their scheduled doctor would not be assisting them today.

Taking a glance at the clock, he notes his first appointment of the day would start in ten minutes. From there he began to take appointment after appointment, glad that most of his patients were regulars who could look at him without a trace of fear. Taking a breather, he went outside to have a quick smoke before covering up the smell with another cup of coffee and a mint that tasted awful combined with the bitter taste already in his mouth.

“You really ought to quit those. You are a doctor after all,” a soft female voice says. Looking over his shoulder he saw the nurse that would be accompanying him with the pap smears. He was always taken aback at how tall she was. No more than a couple of inches shorter than him.

“I don’t need you telling me what to do,” he grumbles, grabbing his glasses and resituating them on his face before turning to face her.

“I’m sure no one can tell you what to do but you should lead by example and you may be surprised how many young doctors have taken up smoking because they want to be like Doctor Clegane,” she chuckles, her voice gentle and soothing, a total contrast to her height and appearance.

“Nobody wants to be like me and if they do, then their bloody fools.”

She lifts her shoulder in a half shrug. “Don’t ask me why they want to be like you. I can hardly believe it myself. Anyways, two of your appointments canceled, said they wanted their pap smear to be done by someone they already knew. The last one just showed up but she is too busy to reschedule, so she’ll be the only one on your list today.”

He blows out a puff of hair, thanking whatever gods were looking out for him today. Brienne wears an amused expression at his obvious relief. “I’ll go get her all settled in.”

He simply nods and she takes it as her cue to leave not caring that he didn’t even say a simple thanks. It was why he didn’t mind her as much as the other nurses. She never seemed to care about pleasantries, whereas most people felt the need to complain behind his back about his lack of politeness.

Heading to the bathroom, he sets to fussing with his hair in the attempt to make his burns less noticeable. It proves to be futile. A haggard breath escapes his chest. He can’t help but wish that he hadn’t been cursed to have the face of a monster. The sound of his pager going off pulls him from his reverie. It is Brienne letting him know that she’s ready whenever he is.

Gathering his courage, he sets off to the room where his patient resides. Shaking off his nerves, he softly knocks on the door and walks in to see Brienne setting up a couple of things while his patient stares at the floor. Her hair makes him pause. There aren’t a lot of women that have naturally red hair like that and he starts to fear the worse. His heart begins to gallop inside of his chest as he moves past her to sit down in the chair in front of his computer. He avoids looking at her, the right side of his face to her, thankfully hiding his scars for the time being as he loads her file.

_Sansa Stark._

_Age: 24._

_Height: 5’9_

_Weight: 140._

Finally, he glances over at her to see her openly gaping at him. Her rosy lips are slightly parted and she has gone white as a sheet. Her hands are clasped so tight together he can see her nails digging into her skin causing little indents. He clears his throat, acting like the professional he is even though he is sure the world fucking despises him to put him in this position.

“Sansa right?” He rasps.

She is pulled out of her trance, her blue orbs darting away from him staring at some point on the ground. “Yes.”

“I just have a couple of questions and we’ll begin the exam.”

She nods quickly, her fingers fumbling with the gown she wears. “Sure.”

“When was the day of your last menstrual cycle?” He is so used to saying these questions they come to him like second nature and he almost forgets who is sitting on the chair.

“Um, about two weeks ago. I think March 3rd.”

He nods, typing what she said. “Are you sexually active?” His eyes flicker over to see her face is bathed in red, he wonders if it spreads down her neck, and blooms in other places. He chastises himself for such unbidden thoughts. He cannot think of her in that way. She is his patient and nothing more.

“No,” she says meekly.

She fidgets uncomfortably on the chair, fingers pulling at the ends of her gown, unable to stay still. He swears he can see her pulse thudding in her neck. He has the sudden urge to press a hand to her heart just to see if it is pounding as hard as he imagines it to be. “Are you on any type of medication?”

 “Just birth control,” she murmurs.

“The shot, correct?”

“Yes.”

He saves the info she has told him, standing to make his way to the sink. He casts a look at Brienne, seeing her brows are furrowed, eyes darting between him and Sansa. The tension in the room is heavy, he feels like he is suffocating under its pressure. “Brienne, can you help her into the stirrups,” he states more than asks, washing his hands, and trying to focus on the task before him.

He has done this more times than he can count, this is no different from the rest he tells himself but knows it is a load of bullshit. He sees the terror in her eyes when he finishes washing his hands. Pulling on his gloves, Brienne moves past him making sure all the tools needed are ready.

Sansa’s feet are in the stirrups, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip to the point he is sure she is going to make it bleed. Settling in the chair before her, he adjusts the exam table to a height he can do this with ease and get it the hell over with. Grabbing the light with more force than necessary he shines it between her legs.

Even in the stirrups, she is trying to press her knees together to hide from him. He doesn’t blame her. _What woman wants a beast like him staring at her most intimate parts?_ As far as he knows, it is none.

He wasn’t a virgin but the few encounters he had were in the dark and each woman demanded to be taken from behind. He had been too drunk to care anyway, finding a quick release and hating himself after the act was done. He actually felt terrible that this beautiful woman had to be touched by him and the guilt that resides low in his stomach made him feel sick.

Gently placing his hands on her knees, he begins to spread them apart, she is trembling and it only suffices to make him feel even more like a piece of shit. “I’m going to make this quick and painless as possible, just try to relax,” he mutters.

“O-okay,” she stutters, body relaxing but he still feels the tremors racing through her.

With her knees open, he is finally able to do what he has to do. He is not prepared to see the scars that are on her inner thighs, jagged, raised skin that has his features drawing in confusion. He sucks in a ragged breath, unable to look away. The knowledge that someone inflicted this on her has him wanting to strangle the useless bastard for daring to lay a violent hand on an innocent girl.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Brienne hisses right by his ear, low enough for only them to hear.

“Give me the speculum,” he says, unfazed by her vexation.

She grabs it, handing it over to him. He takes it out of its packaging, holding it between his hands to warm it up so it’s not brutally cold when it makes contact with her skin. “You’re going to feel a slight pinch,” he tells Sansa, she jerks her head in a nod staring at the ceiling like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.

Focusing on the spot between her thighs, he is met by slightly pink skin and a small smattering of red hair that covers her mound.

  _Gods fucking help him_.

 He goes into professional mode. With tenderness he didn’t even know he possessed, he pushes the speculum inside. Clicking it in place, he checks to make sure everything is healthy on the inside. Once he is done with that, he quickly collects some of the cells on her cervix with a small brush, handing it off to Brienne who places it inside a tube to keep it safe. Taking the speculum out, he tosses it in the trash standing to his full height.

Sansa peers up at him, her cheeks flushed like she ran three miles in the burning sun. If the gods were kind to him, he would beg for them to allow him to stare at her for the rest of his life without her being disgusted by him. He had been cursed by them instead, forced to live his life never knowing what it truly felt like for someone to love him.

“I’m going to perform the bimanual exam now. I’m going to insert two fingers inside to check the size and shape of your uterus and ovaries to see if there are any signs of irritation or unusual growth.”

She inhales on a sharp breath, brows tugging together in the middle. He wants to press his thumb to the area to smooth out the tension there, soothe her with sweet nothings that he would never dare harm her. No matter what the exterior may show, he was not a bad guy. He had been dealt the wrong cards in life and had to roll with the punches as best as he could.

He lubes up his fingers, trying to keep calm even though he was prepared to dart out the door, wanting to avoid this part of the exam. Gently placing his hand on her lower abdomen, she starts at the touch. Her bewitching blues are wide as they flit between his, holding him captive with just a look.

 He slips his fingers to her opening, her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as he began to slide them inside slowly. She was way too fucking tight, her walls clamp down on the intrusion, and he almost groans aloud at the feeling.

“Relax, sweetheart, this is the easy part,” Brienne says with a teasing lilt.

Sansa didn’t seem to hear her, her eyes screwed shut, lips parted slightly as she sucks in desperate breaths. Her walls were fluttering around his fingers, driving him mad, as he checked for any signs of irregularities. Glad to find nothing wrong with her, he began to remove his fingers, and he almost fell to his ass at the soft moan that escapes her. Her eyes flew open, realizing that he and Brienne heard her. Brienne clears her throat.

“Well, it’s all done, honey. We’ll let you know the results in a few days.”

Sansa sits up, refusing to meet their gazes. “Thank you,” she whispers. Brienne leaves first while he tosses his gloves in the trash.

“You are perfectly healthy. You can get dressed. Have a good day, Miss. Stark.”

“You too, Doctor Clegane.”

On that note, he is storming out of the room running straight into Brienne whose eyes are cold and daunting. “What the fuck was that Sandor?”

“Fuck off,” he growls, pushing past her, desperate to get to his office.

She stomps after him, all the way to his office, slamming the door behind her. “That was so unprofessional, Sandor! You stared at her like you wanted to devour her whole!”

“Maybe I did,” he snarls at her, tossing his glasses on his desk, and falling unceremoniously into his chair. 

Her face is a mask of shock. “You can’t be serious," she says incredulously.

“What are you going to do about it? Tell the board that I stared too long at someone’s cunt?”

He had always been way too crass for his own good, too late to stop now.

“If she said anything, you’d be fired in a heartbeat.” She warns him.

“Do you think the little bird is going to tattle on me? It seems like you’re the one I should be worried about.”

“You’ve never taken an interest in the previous women. What makes her so different, Sandor?” Blue eyes trying to figure out what he is thinking but finding absolutely nothing.

“I’m only going to tell you this once more, Brienne, _fuck off_.”

Her gaze is severe. “Go to hell,” she spits. Without another word, she is out the door, and he is finally able to release the breath he had been holding.

He knew why Sansa was different but like hell, he would ever tell anyone the reason. That was his secret to hold onto.

He closes his eyes and begs for the strength to forget this girl. It was futile. She had burrowed her way under his skin and she wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

∞


	2. The Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the amazing comments! They truly make my day and encourage me to keep writing! I'm loving every minute of writing this story and hope you enjoy this little whirlwind!
> 
> Much love <3

                                                          

 

**_Can't you see me walkin' in your shoes_ **  
**_Can't you feel me steppin' all over your soul_ **  
**_Can't you feel me reach into you_ **

**_Can't you feel me walkin' over your soul_ **  
**_Can't you feel me wait in pain_ **  
**_Can't you feel me reach into you_ **

**_∞_ **

 

Sansa never speeds. She has always been a good girl, abiding by all the rules that the system has put in order. She hardly drinks, doesn't smoke and has avoided drugs even when peer pressure threatened to break or make her.

Joffrey had been the only thing that she can say she royally messed up with. Other than that, she stayed focused, earned her bachelor's degree with high honors and successfully built her bakery from the ground up. Today, she throws caution to the wind, going well over the speed limit, and racing through yellow lights-something she never does.

Her heart is pounding a mile a minute, her mind still trying to process everything that just happened in the span of no more than thirty minutes.

 He had seen her scars.

 She had felt him pause, his eyes trained on her thighs. It was not what she expected his enchanting grey eyes to be staring at. She saw the confusion that drew his brows together, a look of utter rage passed over his face only for a moment until the tall, blonde, nurse spoke under her breath by his ear. He snapped back and was performing the procedure with a tenderness she had not been prepared for. Her normal doctor always seemed to go a little too rough, not caring if it hurt, always wanting to get it done with more than Sansa did. Doctor Clegane…he had been so gentle for a man of his stature.

She had forgotten completely about the last part of the Pap smear, the pelvic exam that required the doctor to check the inside with their fingers. She had been terrified, the man had large hands, and especially thick fingers, she was sure it was going to hurt like bloody hell. When he placed his palm on her stomach, his hand spanned almost the entire length of it, long fingers practically reaching to under her breasts. His eyes watched her as he pressed his fingers to her opening. He slid them inside, slowly spreading her walls to the point it felt like heaven. She couldn't help but clamp down on him, wishing his thumb would find her button and give her the pleasure she had never known from a man. The dirty thoughts had her eyes shutting tightly, trying to push them out of sight, out of mind, but failing to do so.

She remembers the nurse saying something, yet, she was too focused on the fingers inside her-searching to ensure that everything was okay. She recalls her breathing coming out much too fast and when his fingers pulled out, she mourned the loss with a soft moan that she knew both parties heard. Humiliated that she enjoyed his fingers inside of her, heat spread through her body like a wildfire. She wished to jump into an ice-filled lake to soothe the ache he ignited within her. Instead, she escaped the hospital as fast as she could, and began her way home forgoing all traffic laws.

She arrives back at her measly apartment, dashing up the stairs, her hand unsteady as she tries to put her key into the lock. Exhaling a frustrated sound, she finally unlocks it. Slamming the door behind her she tosses her purse on the counter. She tugs at her hair, shaking her head trying to wake herself up from this nightmare.

 

"This _can't_ be real!" She shouts to the empty room.

She had never minded her studio apartment, after being forced to live in Joffrey's mansion for a year being subjected to torture after torture-she found a small space was all she needed or wanted.

Her bed was the most expensive thing in her home. It had memory foam and soothed her to sleep even though the nightmares of Joffrey still plagued her from time to time. Sometimes she would wake up screaming, the knife digging into her skin, his maniacal laugh ringing in her ears. Those nights she would cry herself back to sleep and pray that somehow he never escaped the prison he was forced into.

The walls were a comforting baby blue, paintings of flower hung upon them, along with photos she had taken due to the urging of her therapist. She found it had been therapeutic to take pictures of the people she loved and animals. Somehow seeing the innocence in each picture helped her find her own innocence that she thought she had lost with Joffrey.

She should be grateful this nightmare was nothing like those. Joffrey had been a skinny thing but his friends had no quarrel in holding her down as he beat her black and blue, carving into her skin like she was a jack-o-lantern. His hands had been violent whereas Doctor Clegane's had been warm and tender. Something in her told her he would never raise a hand to her.

_He could protect you…_

"No," she whispers to the voice in her head.

There is no way a man as successful as he would want anything to do with her. They were from different worlds. Her business was just beginning and barely starting to get revenue, the reason why she worked the entire eleven hours that it was open by herself.

She had to be up by three every morning to start baking, having everything ready by six am. People did flock in at all hours, it helped support her bills, yet, she was exhausted, and needed more help if she wanted to live past thirty.

She was sure Doctor Clegane worked long hours too and obviously he had put in the time and effort when it came to school to receive his doctorate degree. He was an older man, probably in his mid-thirties. He could have any proper woman that was his age. She probably looked like a child in his eyes, the thought hurt her soul.

Her phone ringing startles her and with trembling hands, she fishes it out of her purse seeing it was Arya calling her.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I know you had your pap smear today, wanted to check in and make sure you were okay."

She nips at her bottom lip, tears rushing to her eyes. "It was fine," she whispers, her throat clogging up.

"You don't sound okay," Arya says in a concerned tone.

A tear slips down her face. She hurriedly wipes it away trying to clear her throat even though it feels like a bowling ball now resides there. "Really, I'm fine."

Arya releases an exasperated sigh on the other end. "You can't bullshit me, Sansa. You're my big sister. I know when something is wrong. Spill the beans or I'm going to drive over there and demand you tell me in person."

"Actually, I would prefer if you were here."

"I'll be there in ten." The phone disconnects and Sansa lies down on her bed, dragging the doll her father gave to her before he passed away to her chest. She would do anything to have him back, to feel his warm arms around her giving her the strength she desperately needed, especially now.

∞

Arya arrives with a huge bottle of wine and a pizza. Sansa almost breaks down even more because her sister knows her all too well. Arya sets the stuff down on the kitchen table and ushers her to the sofa, wrapping her arms around Sansa, and pulling her close.

Arya always smells like grease and oil but right now Sansa can't find it in her heart to care. The smell is almost comforting. "Tell me what happened."

"He was my doctor."

Arya chuckles. "Am I supposed to magically know who _he_ is?"

"It was the man from the bakery."

Arya goes rigid, her arms tightening around Sansa to the point it felt as if she were going to be crushed. Realizing how strong her hold had gotten, Arya releases her to stare her straight in the eye. "That motherfucker hurt you?"

Arya's eyes are blazing, pupils swallowing up the steel making them almost pitch black. She can see her practically shaking with the urge to punch something. Resting her hands on Arya's, she shakes her head. "No, he didn't hurt me. Not at all."

Dark brows furrow, sometimes it hurts how much Arya looks like their father. It was why she always found the strength to keep pushing forward because at least she had Arya. No matter how much they may argue, Arya was always there for her. She wishes she had listened to Arya when she told her about how horrible Joffrey was. She had only been a girl of eighteen and Arya only fifteen, and yet, she refused to listen to her. She should have because all their life Arya had a knack for sniffing out trouble.

When Sansa was twenty-one she had gone to Arya blood spilling from the cuts on her inner thighs, broken ribs, and a black and blue face. It had been Arya that ended up getting Joffrey behind bars by going straight to the police and demanding them to listen to her. Being the daughter of the late Chief of police, they immediately put Joffrey behind bars for his crimes. It was a seven-year sentence that made her blood run cold every time the date of his release grew closer.

"He was so gentle. He seemed like he wanted to escape as badly as I did. He had to put his fingers inside me," she said lowering her head, unable to meet Arya's eyes for what she was about to say next. "It felt good."

"It felt good?" Arya asks, disbelief lacing her voice.

"I moaned and he and the nurse both heard me but they had the good sense not to say anything so as not to embarrass me more. All I want to do is crawl into a hole and die."

Arya grips both sides of Sansa's face, dragging it up. There is no sign of disgust in her steel-colored eyes and she is able to breathe a sigh of relief. "You are only human, Sansa."

She tugs her lip between her teeth, expelling a ragged sigh. "Who moans when their doctor is touching them? I wouldn't have cared if it were a woman but he…I find him attractive and his fingers were thick and it filled me more than Joffrey ever did. I just want to _die_."

Tears streamed down her face. "Shh, Sansa, it's okay. Truly, you have nothing to be ashamed about. You have the right to like who you like. Even though I'm not sure what you see in him. You are so beautiful and he is…I don't know how to explain it." She says with a shake of her head, wiping the tears off Sansa's face with her thumbs.

"He's scarred, like me."

Arya's eyes soften. "You feel a connection…like you're not alone."

"Yes…"

"Then stop feeling ashamed. Maybe you two are meant to be. Just let fate decide that. In the meantime, let's eat some pizza and kill that bottle of wine. We can watch re-runs of ‘The Office' to our heart's content and pass out either from being too drunk or food coma. What do you say?"

Sansa would be lost without Arya. When Arya smiles, she sees her father and realizes that Arya has slowly begun to fill the void that their father left behind. "I would love that."

∞

He lifts his chin over the pull-up bar over and over again. His arms threaten to fall off, his shoulders straining to keep up with his over-exertion.  He has counted a hundred so far but refuses to stop until he at least makes it to a hundred-fifty. Pushing his body to its limits in the hopes he can forget all the things that currently torment his mind.

It had been a couple of weeks since he saw the flame-haired beauty and even now he finds himself yearning to see her again. He could easily go to her place of work but can't stand the thought that she would find him creepy for doing so. He had his fucking fingers inside her and that was reason enough to avoid making her uncomfortable by showing up for the lemon cake that had been the best thing he tasted in his life.

_She would taste better…_

"Fucking _fuck_!" He let go of the pull-up bar, losing count. His body was covered in sweat from his vigorous workout. He needed a cold shower not only to get rid of the gross feeling but also to stop his cock from having a mind of its own.

He refuses to give in to his baser instincts. He would not take himself in hand thinking about how tight she had been or how badly he wanted to kneel before her and taste her just to see if she was as sweet as the lemon cakes she no doubts made with her own two hands.

He let out a harsh breath, raking his fingers through his hair, giving the thin locks a slight tug. He needed to get a hold of himself. He was acting like a green boy. He could go to the bar and get wasted, probably find some woman that didn't mind getting fucked from behind. Disgust instantly filled him, shaking his head at the thought he made his way to his shower turning the knob to cold.

He stands under the icy water for what feels like a century before he gets out, slipping into a pair of briefs, and collapsing on his bed. Throwing an arm over his eyes, he lets out a frustrated groan. Warring with himself on whether he should avoid her forever or go get those lemon cakes he desired so badly. No one made them as she did. He had tried some at some local coffee chain and they had been dry, almost tasteless. Hers were soft with just the right amount of sugar so they weren't a overload on the senses.

With her on his mind, he drifts into a fitful sleep.

∞

He shouldn't be here. He doesn't even have work today which means he doesn't need his usual cup of coffee to get through the day. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans, his black Henley feeling too tight at the moment. He taps his combat boots, shifting uncomfortably, trying to gather the courage to just go the fuck inside. There is a decent amount of customers from what he sees, most infatuated with their little black screens. He only used his phone for work and nothing more.

Realizing he probably looks like a stalker standing outside just staring in, he opens the door and can hear the room go quiet. His eyes flicker to the left to see a mother and child, the child is pointing at him. The mother grabs his finger, pushing his hand down, and pulling him closer to her as if he is some monster that eats children for breakfast. A couple of teenagers talk in hushed tones.

Finally, he reaches the counter, Sansa hasn't noticed him yet. Just like the first time he saw her, she is distracted by restocking her display window. Her hair is pulled into a messy top-bun, her apron a mess, the clothes underneath a simple pair of jeans and a cotton shirt. There is a smudge of flour on her cheek and he has half a mind to walk around the counter to rid it for her. He folds his arms over his chest, forcing his eyes forward to stop ogling her.

"Sorry, I can never seem to keep this display window stocked," Sansa jokes, wiping her hands off on her apron. She stands, he watches as she goes stock-still at seeing him standing before her.

He doesn't waste time ordering what he wants. "Lemon cake and a black coffee, please," he murmurs, casting his eyes down, something he told himself he would never do for anyone.

When it comes to Sansa, he can't help but try to look less intimidating. She reminds him of a frightened little bird with a broken wing staring up at a dog that is ready to eat her. She doesn't realize this dog would do everything in its power to fix her broken wing if she would allow him that close in the first place.

He hears her grab a paper bag filling it with a lemon cake, it is placed on the counter in front of him, and he watches the pale of her skin intently, seeing tiny nicks on her knuckles. She draws it back and a moment later a cup of coffee is being pushed towards him.

"Three dollars please." He hears the quake in her voice, drawing his eyes up he sees she is avoiding his gaze. A bitter feeling settles inside of him. The last thing he wants to do is scare her but her avoiding his eyes has him burning with rage. He yanks his wallet out of his back pocket, taking out three dollars, and slams it on the counter in front of her. She jumps at the sound, her eyes growing wide as she stares at the money in front of her.

"Have a nice fucking day," he quips. Grabbing his coffee and lemon cake, he storms out of the bakery feeling a bunch of eyes following him.

Outside he tosses the coffee into the trash, his heart gallops like a wild horse inside his chest, and he feels like he is drowning. His head being held below water or perhaps he is burning alive, his face meeting fire once again. He can practically feel his skin melting, his breaths are coming too fast, and once he is out of sight he slams his back up against the wall. His head falls back and he stares up at the sky, nowhere near as pretty as the blue of her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

He peers down to see a tiny girl. She looks familiar with her brown hair falling to her shoulders, her white shirt is smudged with oil, and her pants are filthy. Her head tilts to the side as her grey eyes look him up and down. The flash of being flipped off reminds him of who she is.

"Go away you bloody brat," he snarls, gripping the paper bag in his hand a little too tight.

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest, and jutting her hip to the side. He's actually surprised she isn't avoiding his face. She seems unfazed by him completely. She is a tiny thing, he can see the lean muscle that lines her form but other than that he knows it would be like lifting a feather. "You don't scare me, loser." Her eyes flick to the bag in his hands. "What did you get? Personally, I can't get enough of her chocolate chip cookies."

"Are you daft or deaf?"

"Neither," she says taking a step towards him, reaching forward to grab the bag from his hands. Surprisingly, he lets her take it from him and watches adamantly as she opens it. A smug grin appears on her face as she looks up at him. "You don't strike me as the type to like lemon cakes but they _are_ her specialty. They have always been her favorite to make. She probably loves that somebody likes them as much as she does."

She sees he doesn't understand what the hell she is rambling on about. "Sansa, she's my sister. Ever since she was a little girl she has always loved lemon cake. Our dad taught her how to make them and ever since then she has practiced how to make them better and better until finally, she came up with her own recipe for them. She refuses to tell anybody the secret ingredient. I think the only one she told was our father before he passed away."

He doesn't quite understand why this little girl is telling him all of this but somehow all the anger inside him dissipates and he finds that he doesn't mind her going on and about her sister. "I didn't really have much of a family but my neighbor was an old lady that never minded sparing a couple of lemon cakes when she made them for her grandkids."

He can't believe he told someone something personal about him and he wonders if this girl is a witch or some type of sorcerer. "I'm Arya."

"Sandor."

"Why did you run from the bakery? I saw you toss your coffee." She hands the bag back to him.

"It doesn't matter."

"Sure seems like whatever it was really bothered you."

"As I said, it doesn't matter," he huffs, shifting from one foot to the other. "I should go."

He makes to leave but a small, calloused hand grips his arm. "She is shy, don't take it personally." On that note, she lets go of him and heads towards the bakery.

He finds himself unable to move, staring after her wondering why she would tell him all of this when she hardly knew him.

 _She is shy_...he had never thought of that and now he had gone and made a fool of himself in front of her. Probably scared the living shit out of her while he was at it. He hardly knows how to apologize or how to make a girl see that he is interested.

He was going to have to talk to somebody and get advice…something he has never done once in his whole thirty-three years of being alive.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	3. Shadow On The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really can't express how thankful I am to all of you who are reading my story but just know I appreciate it so very much! Your comments light up my day and make me smile so damn big! 
> 
> Much love <3

                                                         

**_Shapes of every size_ **  
**_Move behind my eyes_ **  
**_Doors inside my head_ **  
**_Bolted from within_ **  
**_Every drop of flame_ **  
**_Lights a candle in_ **  
**_Memory of the one_ **  
**_Who lives inside my skin_ **

**_∞_ **

**_26 YEARS AGO_ **

He peers at the plastic knight between his fingers, smiling from ear to ear he ran into the living room, falling to his knees near the fireplace, reveling in its warmth. Grabbing a maiden out of his pocket, he began to create a dialogue between the two.

 He had a crush on a beautiful girl in his class and imagines that it was him presenting her with a flower. He could be her knight in armor if she would let him.

He is so focused on playing with the toys that he doesn't sense another person walking into the room. A shadow casts over him where he lays on his belly on the rug his mom handmaid. His blood runs cold as he stares at a pair of messy work boots. Slowly, he drags his eyes up the length of his brother's legs until he meets a pair of dark eyes.

"Gregor-" It's the only word he is able to get out of his mouth when his brother grabs him by the back of his shirt, lifting him with ease.

His brother was a mountain of a boy, only twelve years he was already reaching almost six foot, and heavily muscled. Sandor is no match for him as he does everything in his power to fight off his brother. Tears raced down his face as he throws punch after punch into his brother's chest, ribs, and stomach, his knuckles aching as he does so.

"Please, Gregor! I'm sorry! I should have asked! _Please_!" He cries out seeing where his brother is leading him. The flames of the fire dance in his eyes as he digs his nails into Gregor's wrist.

He is grabbed by the scruff of his neck, the left side of his face slams into the fire, agony sears through every fiber of his being. He knows he is screaming bloody murder but everything is starting to hone in and out, his throat clogs breathing in the fumes of smoke, the smell of his flesh melting has him vomiting but even then Gregor refuses to let him go.

" _Stop_!" His mom screams. " _Let him go_! You _let_ him _go_ you _beast_!"

"Gregor, fucking stop," his father growls and eventually Sandor is lying on his back, his vision a blur. He hears more than sees his brother walking away. Warm arms wrap around him, drawing him close, tears landing on his burned flesh.

"My baby, oh my baby," his mom whispers, sobs wrack her body. "Call an ambulance you useless prick!"

"He'll be fine you stupid bitch," his father spat but still Sandor can hear him grumbling to himself as he dials 911.

"It's okay, baby. I've got you. I've got you."

Before the pain pulls him under he wishes for death.

∞

**_EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO_ **

He lays on his back staring at the passing clouds. His shirt is discarded off to the side, it only took him six minutes to run the mile, and now he has to wait patiently for the rest of the students to get done before he's allowed to go shower off the sweat that coats his skin.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here. What's an ugly dog doing all by his lonesome?"

He casts his eyes to the side to see a group of boys half his size staring down at him. They are pretty boys with hardly any muscle whereas he has finally grown into his size and height. Heavily muscled from dedicating his time to lifting weights and practicing boxing. He was used to the bullying of kids that let their ego get to them. Ignoring them, he lifted his eyes back to the clouds.

"C'mon, you ugly fuck, don't pretend like you don't hear me."

"Are these the voices in my head?" Sandor asks. "Because if they are, they sure sound like a bunch of pussies."

"You mother fucker," the blonde-headed fuck hisses.

He notes their attention is grasped by something else momentarily, all their heads whipping to the side. He looks over to see the ginger-haired kid that constantly gets picked on. The guy is fairly tall, he even has a bit of lean muscle but it is not enough to fend off a pack of guys all by himself.

"Don't think you're off the hook dog." The boys begin to walk over to the kid who sits alone reading a book. He doesn't even see what is headed his way.

The leader of the pack of pussies yanks the book out of the boy's hands, tearing page after page out of it. The boy stares on in horror, moving onto his knees to pick up the pages that are starting to drift away due to the wind. It is when the boy is yanked by his hair and punched straight in the face that Sandor can't take it anymore. He has never been the type to defend others but right now, his blood is hot, and he needs to feel his fist connect with something other than his boxing bag.

He charges over, his long legs eating up the length between him and them in no more than a couple seconds. His fist meets bone as he cracks it into one of the unsuspecting bullies. The kid goes down, knocked out cold, his friend stares up at him, and he notes the smell of piss. His lips curl into a cruel smirk as he watches the boy tremble before him. "Run while you can." The boy wastes no time in obeying.

"Who do you fucking think you are, dog?"

His hand whips out, clutching the throat of the blonde watching his hazel eyes go wide as saucers. He lifts him onto his tiptoes, dragging his face close. "I'm your worst nightmare, boy."

His hold goes tight until he is lifting the boy completely off the ground, reveling in the way he starts to go pale, kicking and digging his nails into Sandor's wrist. Sandor begins to laugh, seeing the vessels beginning to cause redness to seep into the whites of his eyes.

"You'll kill him," the boy on the ground mutters.

"Will you care?" Sandor growls, looking down on him, a bruise already marring his fair skin.

Big blue eyes lift up to his as he shrugs his shoulders. "I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."

Sandor drops the boy, hearing him sucking in air rapidly, gasping like a fish out of water. "If you fuck with anybody again, I'll fucking _end_ you. Tell the teacher a pretty little lie about your friend and get the fuck out of my sight."

Sandor walks back to the tree he had been resting under, the sound of the bell signaling class has come to an end. He bends to grab his shirt, turning around, and taking a step back when he sees the kid he just saved from bullying.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"I'm Tormund."

"I don't remember asking for your name."

Tormund tilts his head to the side. "I think you and I both could use a friend. I'm not in the habit of not saying thank you to somebody who put their neck out for me."

"I don't need a thank you. I didn't do it for you," he snaps pushing past the kid much shorter than him.

"Then who did you do it for?"

"I wanted to hurt them. I wanted to know what it was like to hit somebody."

"And how did you like it?"

He casts a dark look over his shoulder at this scrawny kid. "I felt nothing."

Tormund laughs a hearty sound. "So, was it even worth it?"

He doesn't quite understand how this kid can still be laughing after getting punched in the face but he can't help but admire his tenacity. "Somewhat."

"Well, I don't think they will be messing with you anytime soon."

"No, I suppose they know better now."

He nods, giving Sandor a smile before walking to his battered book. Sandor follows after him seeing the book is ‘ _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy._ ' He had never been much of a reader, choosing to devote his time to anything that had numbers or formulas.

"Sandor," he simply says.

Tormund looks up at him and gives him a crooked smile. "Nice to meet you."

Later that day, Sandor steals a copy of the book that had been destroyed. He had never stolen something before but with his mother long gone, he knew his father wouldn't loan him the money.

It is the only thing he steals, giving it to Tormund the next day. He had never seen a boy cry before but he soon learned that Tormund had a big heart and slowly but surely Sandor began to open up to somebody for the first time in his life.

∞

**_PRESENT_ **

He nurses a beer, fidgeting uncomfortably on the stool that is much too small for a man of his stature. Bringing the mug to his lips, he takes a long pull relishing the hoppy taste before setting it back down on its coaster.

A slap to his back draws his attention to the left seeing Tormund wearing a lopsided grin. "Ah, there's my handsome boy," Tormund laughs, taking a seat on the stool beside him. Waving the bartender over he orders a beer of his own and hands over some money when they set it on a coaster before him. Tormund takes a heavy swig, some pouring onto his mess of a red beard. He rubs his forearm across his mouth and twists in the stool to face Sandor.

Clasping a hand on Sandor's shoulder, his eyes flit over his face. "Something troubling you my friend?"

"Yes," he mutters.

"Tell me your woes," Tormund says taking another drink.

Sandor nips at his bottom lip, figuring out how he is going to go about saying this without coming off as an incompetent loser who has never gone a date with a woman. "It's regarding a woman."

 _Smooth, Sandor._ He grumbles in his head.

Tormund places his beer down, blue eyes are wide in his skull, his hair as much of a mess as his beard. It makes him look wild and Sandor stifles a laugh, something he has to do only when Tormund is around.

They have been friends for more than a decade, they know everything about each other, and he is the only one Sandor has ever been able to trust. When things got exceptionally bad with his brother and father, Tormund's mom let him stay with them helping him get the textbooks he needed to study medicine. He would forever be grateful for the single mother who raised a son that any woman would be lucky to have.

 Tormund knew Sandor's struggle with self-esteem, even trying to desperately make him see that he was worthy of being loved. Tormund has never looked at his scars and found them ugly, always looking him in the eye since the day they first met. It was Tormund that urged him to follow his dreams and not let anything stand in his way.

"A woman? Tell me all about her." Tormund's smile grew even broader, placing his elbow on the bar he pressed his palm to his cheek waiting patiently for Sandor to continue.

"She works at a bakery."

Tormund rolls his eyes. "What does she look like?"

"Red hair, blue eyes, tall, and fair," he grumbles.

Tormund guffaws, slapping his knee with his free hand. "I always knew you liked gingers."

"Shut up, I fucking knew you would say that." He also can't help laughing at the fact that he literally just described Tormund.

"I know I'm handsome but you didn't have to go find a female version of me. All you have to do is ask," Tormund teases.

"Oh, fuck off you oaf." He grabs his beer finishing it off, the bartender asks if he wants another and he nods. Another one is placed in front of him no more than a minute later.

"So, you like her, what are you going to do about it?"

"That's where I need your help. I've never asked a woman out before, never been on a date, and she won't even look me in the bloody eye."

"Hmm, must be shy. You're too pretty to ignore."

He narrows his eyes at Tormund. "Don't be an ass."

"All right, All right. Believe what you want, Sandor, but your scars do not define you. Maybe there's a reason why she won't meet your eyes."

"Could because I had my fingers inside her."

Tormund had just taken a drink, spluttering, and coughing as he tries to clear his throat. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"I was her gynecologist."

"The gods do not favor you, my friend."

"You think I haven't noticed? The little bird was terrified. There's no way she will want me if not for my face but because of my size."

Tormund's blue eyes rake over Sandor. "Women like a big man if you know what I mean," he says with a wink.

"Not as big as me."

"Look at you boasting about yourself. How big are you down there?" Tormund says with genuine curiosity. Eyes glittering in the dim light.

"I'm not fucking telling you," he growls, folding his arms over his chest.

"Don't be modest, I'm a good seven and a half inches," Tormund says puffing out his chest.

"I'm sure you are."

"C'mon, tell me or I'm going to start guessing."

"I'm going to rip your tongue out if you don't stop."

"Seven?"

" _Tormund_."

"Eight?"

"Tormund just fucking stop."

"Oh my fucking god, _nine_??" He spat incredulously. "You must murder a girl's cunt!"

The people at the bar all shift their gazes over to them. Sandor's face heats in embarrassment. It wasn't like he could magically make himself smaller.

"Be any louder would you," he quips through clenched teeth.

"Just whip out your cock. I'm sure that will make her look at you."

"I knew I made a mistake asking you for help." Chugging his beer in one go, he set the mug down and threw cash on the bar making to leave.

Tormund grasps his arm, halting his move to leave. "I'm sorry, brother. You know my tongue gets the better of me sometimes. I'll help you. Just tell me what you want help with and I'll do my best to give you the advice you need."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he sat back down. "How do you normally go about…seeing if a girl is interested in you?"

"I ask them on a date and if they say yes then I know. If they reject me then I know."

"I've never asked a girl on a date."

"Go to the bakery and ask her, Sandor. If you truly like her then stop pussyfooting around and go for it."

"If she says yes. Take her to a casual restaurant and get to know her. If things go well, then you can start taking her on dates that she will enjoy more than just a dinner and drink. Don't read so much into it. Just go with the flow."

"You know I'm shite at talking to women. I'm not like you."

"Dress casual, smell nice and just be yourself. Sandor, trust me if she is interested she will say yes."

He ponders the thought, knowing his friend is right. There is only one way to find out if the little bird has any desire to get to know him. He had to man up or he would live alone for the rest of his days.

∞

"Thank you, Sansa. These cookies are to die for," a customer says as she accepts the paper bag from her. "I don't know what I'd do without this little hole in the wall."

"Your business is greatly appreciated. You enjoy the rest of your day," she says with a sweet smile.

The woman smiles back and begins to leave the bakery. At that moment the door opens revealing a man that haunts Sansa's dreams.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she heard the woman stutter. Sansa can see the hurt in his grey eyes with the way the woman looks at him and her heart clenches hard inside her chest.

 She never knew a man as massive as he could wear such a distraught expression. It hardens only a moment later as he holds the door open for her and she rushes past him without saying thank you.

Sansa grabs a bag already filling it with a lemon cake, setting it on the counter as she pours a cup of coffee. Her eyes remain downcast as she sets it beside the bag feeling him draw closer.

"In a hurry to get me out of here, eh, little bird?" She can hear the hurt in his tone even though he is trying hard to hide it.

"No, sir," she whispers. "I just assumed this is what you wanted."

Three dollars slide towards her, she murmurs thanks placing the money into the register. However, today he lingers standing stock-still before her. Her eyes drift to his forearms drinking in the thick muscles, the veins standing out underneath the smattering of dark hair. His fists clench and unclench a few times.

"Look at me," he says, an ache to his voice.

"What?"

"Please, look at me," he repeats.

"Doctor Clegane-"

"Sandor." She watches as he moves around the counter, her body instinctively turns to face him as she takes a few steps back. Her eyes fall down the length of his thick thighs covered in black denim, down to his combat boots.

"You can't…be back here," she breathes, her heart feeling like it is about to burst out of her chest.

"Then tell me to go, little bird, and I will."

Her back meets the wall, eyes drifting up to his white Henley, up to his burly chest where black hair peeks out. She draws her gaze to his neck, taking in his thick beard, her breaths coming hard and fast. She can smell him, he smells like pine and all things earthy along with the hint of musk that is uniquely him.

She startles when he grips her jaw between his thumb and four fingers, gently raising her head up. She sees the burned skin wondering how anyone could do that to a person and finally her eyes connect with his. She sucks in air and holds his gaze. His eyes soften, a million emotions swarm in them, and she finds herself unable to look away. She has never seen eyes as beautiful as his.

"Do I frighten you so much, girl?" He asks with a slight bite to his words.

Her blue orbs flit between his. "You won't hurt me," she whispers.

"No, little bird, I won't hurt you," his voice is raw with emotion and without much thought; she lifts a trembling hand to rest on the back of his.

"Sandor…"

His brows furrow at the sound of his name escaping from her lips. "I'm not any good at this. I don't know how to put it into words…what I want."

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Just try," she urges kindly.

His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, his thumb drags over her bottom lip making her shudder at the touch. "Would you go on a date with me, Sansa?" He asks, a look of worry taking over his features.

If she thought her heart was pounding before-it is now an entire orchestra beating like mad. "Yes," she says without hesitation.

"Thank you," he rasps letting go of her.

Sansa mourns the loss of him immediately. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she grabs a piece of paper scribbling her number on it and hands it to him.

"Call me."

He took it with a look of awe. "I will."

"We'll be in touch?"

"Aye, little bird."

With that, he left the bakery with his lemon cake and coffee. Once he was out of sight she let out the breath she had been holding. A giddy feeling overcame her. She hadn't felt like this since she was a carefree child, it was exhilarating.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	4. The Other Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A dash of drama for you all, sorryyyy <3
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, I can't get enough of them!
> 
> Much love <3

                                                                

 

**_Walking north I can hide for a season_ **   
**_Are you here in the dark with me?_ **   
**_With your voice in the stars_ **   
**_I hear you crying_ **

**_∞_ **

After the giddy feeling settles down inside of her, a feeling of dread took its place. Sansa had only ever been with one man and she could hardly call him that after all the terrible things he had done to her.

Only days ago Sandor had walked into her bakery, throwing a curse in her direction before striding out as a man wronged. She could only wonder if this was a terrible prank that he was pulling on her.

She wants to believe his intentions were pure but he had seen her down there and she fears he was after her for only one purpose.

Sandor was successful, wealthy and no doubt didn't struggle to make ends meet. _Why was he going after her?_ She was poor and barely keeping her head above water. She had nothing to offer him.

A fire began to burn her from the inside out and she saw red for a moment, unable to believe that he would do such a thing to her. She would avoid his calls. She wasn't about to let some man she hardly knew waltz into her life and think he could get what he wanted from her with his pretty words.

She had already let herself be broken down by one boy, like hell she'd allow another to do the same. Tossing Sandor from her mind, she focuses on the task at hand, cleaning her space up before heading out for the day.

When her phone rang later that night, an unknown caller displayed on her screen, she ignored it and turned off her phone.

∞

"She's ignoring me," he snarls, slamming his phone down on his desk.

"There must be a reason," Tormund says, eyes raking over the artifacts Sandor displays on the walls. A couple of swords and a sigil with three hounds.

"Everything seemed fine the last time I saw her. She seemed like she might actually like me. No, she just wanted to play with the ugly dog and kick him while he's already fucking down." The spite that laces his tone isn't a pretty sound even to his own ears but this rejection hurts more than most things he has experienced in his life.

"Don't call yourself that," Tormund snaps, taking a seat across from him.

"What?"

"An ugly dog."

"Seriously, Tormund, that's what you care about?"

"I hate when you belittle yourself. You have to think rationally, Sandor. This woman hardly knows you and you asked her out. You've seen her most intimate part. I'm sure she is wondering what your intentions are. I'm sure she is just scared."

"You fucking _told_ me to ask her out."

"And I'm glad you did but you have to read between the lines and figure out why she is rejecting you after she seemed like she genuinely was interested before."

"My intentions are good. I was only doing my job when I saw her down there. Yes, I'm only a man. I'm going to wonder how amazing it would feel to have her beneath me but I'd never force her to do anything with me until she wanted to."

"I know your intentions are good but she doesn't know that. You're going to have to find a way to talk to her and find out what is going on. Anyways I have to get going."

Tormund is just standing when a knock sounds on the door. "Come in," Sandor grumbles pinching the bridge of his nose.

He raises his eyes to see Brienne walk in. "Sorry to intrude but I just wanted to give you the files of your next patient." She strides past Tormund who is now dumbfounded as he stares at the woman that is a good three inches taller than him. Sandor watches as Tormund shakes himself out of his stupor.

"Who are you?"

Brienne shifts her eyes down to look at him, her blonde brow quirks. "I'm a nurse. I work here."

Tormund shakes his head. "No, your name, angel. What's your name?"

Brienne crosses her arms over her chest, staring him down, eyes narrowing. "I'm not your ‘angel'."

"I meant no offense. You are just so beautiful I'm sure I've died and gone to heaven."

She scoffs. "Does that line usually work for you?"

"I've never used it before. Is it working?"

"No. Goodbye, Doctor Clegane." Turning her nose up at Tormund she exits the room.

Tormund glares at Sandor. "You never told me you worked with a goddess."

"Goddess is a strong word."

"What's her name?"

"Brienne. Now, don't you have somewhere better to be?"

Tormund only nods racing out the door no doubt going after Brienne. He lets out a sigh, smoothing his hair out of his face. Figuring there is nothing he can do at this exact moment, he packs up his things and heads to his truck. Getting inside he tosses his stuff on the passenger side and starts his journey home. He doesn't get far when his truck starts shaking and he can tell it is overheating.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, slamming his hands on the steering wheel and pulling over to the side of the road. He angrily pops the hood, storming around to the front of his car to see why his car is breaking down on him.

He notices that his radiator hose has a gash through it. Thankfully it is an easy fix. Rubbing his temples he calms himself down enough to call a tow truck. They let him know it will only be a ten-minute wait. Grabbing his cigarettes from the middle console he takes one out placing it between his lips as he shrugs out of his suit jacket and loosens his tie enough to toss both on the passenger side.

He moves to the back of his truck, cupping his hand giving him the ability to light the cigarette. He inhales the toxic smoke, exhaling it a moment later, enjoying the slight breeze that cools his flushed skin.

It isn't long before he sees a tow truck pulling in front of him. A man jumps out with shaggy black hair and tanned skin covered in grease. His tank top is ruined with grease and his jeans follow suit. He walks over to Sandor, he is tall but Sandor still manages to tower over him. Cerulean eyes meet his.

"They told me it was a radiator leak. Easy fix. I won't charge you for the tow. It's going to take me no more than an hour to get it replaced for you."

Sandor tosses his cigarette on the ground putting it out with the toe of his shoe. "Thanks."

"Of course. I'm going to get your truck on mine real quick and we'll head out." The kid begins to do as he said. Sandor is surprised to see how much muscle the boy has, it almost rivals how built he is. He moves fast, the truck is on the back of his in less than five minutes before they are both in the tow truck heading towards the auto shop.

"You from around here?" The kid asks his eyes trained on the road.

"Yes."

"I couldn't help but notice you're wearing a suit in this weather. Where do you work?"

"I'm a doctor."

"Oh, that's nice. My mother was a nurse."

"Was?"

"She passed away when I was a boy. Hardly remember her but I guess she was blonde-haired. Everyone says I'm a carbon copy of my father. He wasn't much of a father though. When he died I inherited his auto garage. Hardly even knew him because I grew up in the system but I guess he hated his wife, didn't want her son to have it. I've been told it wasn't his blood-related son anyways."

"You talk a lot, kid."

"Yeah, my girl says the same. She says I do it when I'm nervous."

"Are you nervous?" Sandor asks, quirking a dark brow.

"Not because of you. I just tend to have this need to fill the uncomfortable silence. Ever since I was a kid people said I talk too much."

"Why did your father hate his wife?"

"She was manipulative. She had a thirst for power and wanted extravagant things he couldn't give her. Being the owner of an auto garage doesn't exactly bring in the big bucks. Plus, she constantly cheated on him. She had three kids and none of them looked like him. They were all blonde-haired and blue-eyed. Her oldest kid was involved in a lot of gang shit.

 “I met Arya when she was eighteen, I had just inherited my father's garage, and she brought her car in. I was hooked on her instantly. Through some strange coincidence, her sister happened to be with some abusive shit, and I learned that he was my presumed half-brother. He looked nothing like me. He did horrible things to Arya's sister. Arya and I did everything we could to get her away from him. She kept refusing but it wasn't until a year later that he cut her up and almost killed her that she finally was able to get away. He's rotting in prison for the time being."

Sandor can't help but wonder if he has some secret power that makes people bare their souls. He never thought people would ever want to tell him personal things but it seems like he had been wrong about that notion. Hearing this kid tell him all of this has him wishing he could be as open as him. He's drinking in all that he said when the name Arya has him clenching the handle of the door. He whips his head to the side.

"Arya?"

The kid chuckles. "Yes, she's my girlfriend."

"Brown hair, grey eyes, short?"

"That sure sounds like her. Do you know her?"

"Is Sansa her sister?"

They arrive at the garage and the kid puts the truck in park, raising a suspicious brow in Sandor's direction. His cerulean eyes roam over Sandor. "You know her?"

"She works at the bakery I go to and she was my patient," he explains, shoving his hair away from his face.

"Your patient?"

"Yes, she was my patient. Her usual doctor was on vacation."

"Makes sense why you know her name." He hops out of the truck without another word.

 Sandor can tell the kid has gone shy on him, not completely trusting how he knows Arya and Sansa.

 _Maybe he should have thought of that before rambling on about personal shit_. Sandor thinks to himself.

He gets out of the truck and sees Arya moving towards the kid.

"That was fast, Gendry," she calls out as she approaches him.

"Yeah, he wasn't too far away." He nods in Sandor's direction.

Sandor stands straighter, watching recognition dawn in Arya's steel-colored eyes. Fishing out his cigarettes, he turns away from her finding a quiet spot near a tree, enjoying the shade it brings. He hears her footsteps come up beside him.

"Nice truck you have there," she says, pointing a thumb at him.

"Thanks," he mutters around the cigarette between his lips.

Her eyes flick to it. "You're a doctor and you smoke. That’s strange."

"Do I look like someone who follows the rules of society?"

"I _assumed_ you cared about your health."

"I'm going to die either way. Might as well do what I want with the time I have left."

She tilts her head to the side, resting a hand on her hip. Peering up at him with a look he can't quite depict. "Doctors are supposed to lead by example. Don't you have to tell your patients that smoking is bad for them?"

"I don't tell grown adults what they should and shouldn't do. If they want to smoke then that is their choice if they want to be obese, then all the power to them. I'm not their shrink nor their parent."

"Why are you so hateful?"

"When you look like me the only thing you learn is that hate is what keeps you alive," he says ardently.

"I think you hide behind your anger and hate. It is your armor. Underneath it all, I think you're just a big softy that wants to do good. You're a fucking doctor. I'm sure you're of the rarities that actually practiced medicine because you want to help others versus the money it brings you. Let me guess," she says, rubbing her chin. "You live in a quaint one-story house. Your car is the most expensive thing you own and the only reason it is so big is that you yourself are a big man and wouldn't fit anything smaller."

He scratches his beard, letting out a loud laugh at this girl's determination to be right and the thing was she _was_ right. He _did_ go into medicine to help others, he _did_ live in a small, one-story house and his car _was_ the most expensive thing he owned. Custom made to suit his needs.

"You are a strange little girl." He blew out a puff of smoke.

She rolls her eyes, jutting her hip out. "I'm twenty-two. I'm not a little girl anymore."

"Whatever you say."

"Well, am I right?"

"Want me to stroke your ego, eh?"

"No shit, big man," she teases.

"Yes, you're right."

She pumps her fist in the air, pulling another laugh out of him. He didn't know what it was about these Stark girls but they truly were a rare breed. "I knew it. So, I heard you asked my sister out."

"Oh, did you?" He sarcastically mutters putting his cigarette out.

"My sister has been through a lot. She has never been with a man that had good intentions."

"My intentions were to get to know her and that is all."

Arya scoffs with a shake of her head. "No man only wants to get to know a girl. I'm sure you say that to all the girls you go after."

"Do I look like a man that can get any girl I want?" He snaps.

 She took a step back and he laughs a cruel sound. "I've never been on a fucking date in my life. I've had sex with three women, all drunken encounters in the dark where they demanded to be fucked from behind. It would break my fucking heart if that's what Sansa wanted from me. She is the first woman that I've actually wanted to look at me and not see me as a monster.

"I know she has been abused and if I could I would take that fucker's bloody head off with my bare hands. I would do everything on her terms because I know how it feels to be hurt by somebody you think would never bring you harm." He is breathing hard at this point, a storm brewing inside him filled with anguish and conflict. _Why does he keep baring his fucking soul to this girl?_

Her steely eyes flit between his, she actually looks stunned by everything he has just said, and he can't take being near her anymore.

"Tell your boy to hurry the fuck up so I can get out of here and be done with the lot of you," he snarls like a wild animal caught in a trap.

She flinches away from his anger and for once she didn't say anything. With a slight nod, she hurries off to where Gendry worked on his truck.

He tugs at his hair, his heart aching, and he knew he was about to drink his weight in liquor when he arrived home. He would put them all out of sight, out of mind, and forget they existed.

It was all he could do to avoid being driven to madness.

∞

Sansa hums to herself as she tidies up her apartment. A sharp knock stops her in her tracks, heart slowly starting to pick up in speed.

She despises that she was always terrified at the thought Joffrey had found her. As far as she knew he was still in prison.

She approaches the door, peeking through the peephole to see Arya. Confusion drew her brows together and she opened it. Arya storms past her. "We need to talk."

"Um okay…" She closes the door, setting her duster down on the counter. "Did you want anything to drink?"

"Wine is fine."

Sansa pours two glasses, taking a seat next to Arya, and hands one over to her. Arya took a large gulp and breathes a ragged sound. "You have to call him back."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sandor, he's not what you think he is. He _is_ a good man. You have to trust me on this, Sansa."

Sansa tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're speaking nonsense, Arya."

"No, I'm not!"

Sansa's eyes go wide at her sister's outburst. "What has gotten into you?"

"He only wants to get to know you, Sansa. He won't push you into doing anything that you are uncomfortable with. He is _not_ Joffrey. You have to give him a chance."

Sansa stiffens, giving Arya a look of disbelief. "I don't _have_ to do anything I don't want to."

A look of dismay crosses Arya's face. "Please, Sansa. I know that you feel something for him."

"It doesn't matter if I do. I don't want anything to do with him. He thinks he can woo me with fancy words and act like he has power over me. He cornered me and I wasn't thinking straight. I know how men are. I'm not going to allow myself to be hurt again." Standing she drains her glass of wine and moves into the kitchen.

"You're a coward."

Sansa swirls around. "What did you just call me?"

"You fucking heard me."

"I'm a coward because I trust my instincts?" She fumes, clenching her fists at her sides, her knuckles going white.

Arya's stare was sharp enough to cut metal. "As if your instincts are accurate. I told you to stay away from Joffrey but you refused to listen and now I tell you that a man is worthy of your affection and you cast my words aside once again. You are so scared to open your heart, terrified a man might actually want you for what's in your head versus what's between your thighs. Do what you want, Sansa. I'm done trying to help you."

Arya places the glass in her hand on the coffee table and leaves Sansa reeling with her thoughts.

With Arya gone, the room suddenly feels too small and too cold. She rubs her hands up and down her arms, holding herself close doing everything to ignore the feeling creeping through her. She felt rooted to the spot, sadness like no other taking hold of her, and before she could stop them, tears began to race down her cheeks.

She knew her sister was just looking out for her but she was scared. She was terrified to let Sandor in. He must know where her scars come from and that thought only suffices to make her want to run away. Still, she was tired of running. If she kept closing herself off from the world she would end up alone.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	5. Whoops.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey

Hey y'all. I too felt things were rushed so I'm going back to the drawing board. Even last night I was like I shouldn't post this lol 

Thanks for your comments, I did read them all. Sorry if it felt weird and if you don't like that I retracted this chapter but I hope you all will stick me as I feel this story out like it was meant to be. The great thing about fan fiction is I can rewrite a chapter to make it make more sense. Your feedback is valued and taken to heart.

Thanks y'all, expect a new chapter tonight or tomorrow ❤️


	6. Conscious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me! I rewrote this chapter and hopefully, it flows better with the rest of the story :)
> 
> Much love <3

                                                            

 

_**When I come alive, such a pretty light** _   
_**I can be beautiful, I can be right** _   
_**I can hold my own when I feel at home** _   
_**I can be tender, I can be kind** _

_**When I'm on my feet, I can take the heat** _   
_**But when I get low I prefer the cold** _   
_**I can be a hard light to ignite** _   
_**All my nightmares feel like real life** _

**_∞_ **

He knows he needs to slow down. Five beers deep without much to eat today have caused them to go straight to his head.

He is tipsy, not to the point he is slurring his words quite yet but just enough to know he's probably going to do something stupid if he keeps going at this pace. Every time he sees a woman with red hair he has to stop himself from chasing after them, reminding himself that it would be a temporary release that wouldn't fill the void in his heart.

Ordering another beer, he decides to get wasted in an attempt to forget all about the flame-haired beauty that had sunk her claws into him. He may not know much about her but there was an undeniable pull to her, something calling out to him that he needs to protect her.

He kept having nightmares about horrible things happening to her, so many restless nights that he couldn't remember the last time he had a full eight hours of sleep.

The beer goes down as quickly as the rest, one after the other until he feels the world spinning all around him. A hand on his shoulder hardly fazes him. Peering over he sees the last person he thought he'd see in a seedy bar. Her steel-colored eyes roam over his face and he sees the worry that coats her expression.

"What are you doing here?" He slurs, signaling to the bartender.

"You've had enough," Arya clips grabbing his wrist trying to push it down.

He gave a mirthless laugh at her attempt to overpower him. Not even as drunk as he is, will anyone ever be able to top his strength, especially not a little girl that weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet. "I don't need a little girl telling me what to do."

"You've had enough," she snarls, digging her nails into his skin making him wince.

The bartender warily looks between them. "Do not serve him. He's had enough, can't you fucking tell?"

"I-I'm sorry, I'll get his tab settled," the bartender stutters and made off to do as he said he would.

"Ah, look at the fierce little warrior," he sneers.

"You think that drinking yourself to death is going to magically make all your problems go away?"

"Didn't I tell you that I want nothing to do with you?"

She scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm only trying to figure out why you and my sister keep hurting yourselves instead of realizing what you have right in front of you."

"Your sister refused to answer my calls. I'm not going to go to the bakery and demand her to tell me why she wants nothing to do with me."

Arya gave a diminutive way of her hand. "My sister is acting like a coward. I guess you have me there."

"Holy shit, did you actually just say I was right?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, big man," she mutters, eyes flicking to the bartender that has returned with his receipt and card. Scribbling a tip, he made to stand only to realize how drunk he really was.

He lost his footing stumbling into her. She presses her palms to his chest letting out a squeak. "Jesus almighty, you're fucking heavy!"

"I might be a bit drunk," he chuckles. It almost sounds like a giggle and he chides himself inside his head for letting out such an obnoxious sound.

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock," she grunts, trying to help steady him. "Did you drive here?"

He pats his pockets, slightly swaying like leaves in the wind. He yanks his keys out of his pocket, holding them in the air with a triumphant smirk on his face. "I guess I did."

"You are not driving. I'm going to call Gendry. Let's get you some fresh air."

"I'm perfectly fine to drive."

"Oh, shut up you oaf." Somehow she was able to get him outside. He slumps against the wall trying to focus on a single spot to stop the world from spinning.

He briefly overheard her talking to Gendry. His vision honing in and out, he could hardly make out the words she was saying to him. It wasn't much later when Gendry arrives, at this point Sandor could barely stand on his own. Both Gendry and Arya had to hold onto him to get him into the backseat of Gendry's truck.

"I thought he was massive before, when he's deadweight he feels like a thousand pounds," Gendry grumbles from the front seat.

Sandor laughs obnoxiously at the comment, throwing an arm over his eyes still trying to make everything stop circling. He felt dizzy but knew there was no way in seven hells that he would puke. He would have one hell of a hangover but thankfully he wasn't on call and didn't have to work tomorrow.

"Where do you live?" Arya asks and he mumbles his address.

The truck began to move and no more than a minute later the shrill of a phone ringing had him covering his ears, it was enough to make his head start pounding even more. "Hi, Sansa."

Sandor immediately uncovers his ears at the sound of her name. He lifts his gaze to where Arya sat in the passenger seat, nodding her head at whatever she was saying.

"I'm actually busy right now. I have to take a drunk friend home." She peers over to look at him, rolling her eyes at whatever Sansa said.

"Yes, I do have friends. You actually might know this one," she replies with a smirk.

"Don't you dare," he says through clenched teeth.

"Does Sandor ring any bells?"

"I'll kill you girl."

"Best not threaten what's mine," Gendry quips and Sandor shuts his mouth, feeling like a scolded child but not having the strength to make a retort.

"We're dropping him off at his place. He just needs to sleep it off. Maybe you should come to sing a song for him. I think he'd like that," Arya teases, sticking her tongue out at him. He flips his middle finger at her and resides to stare at the ceiling for the remainder of the drive.

Arya continues to talk to Sansa, at this point he has zoned out not hearing a word coming out of her mouth. He didn't quite understand why he kept running into Arya. That gut feeling tugged at him once again that there was a reason for all the coincidental run-ins with her. Scrunching his eyes closed, he took a ragged breath in and exhaled calming his racing heart.

They arrive at his house and he gets out of the truck almost face planting, barely managing to catch himself.  Arya stifles a laugh behind her hand while Gendry shook his head, wrapping his arm around Sandor's waist, and forcing him to put his arm over his shoulders. "We'll go get your truck for you."

"You don't have to do that," he objects.

"Do you ever just say thank you and be done with it?" Gendry remarks. He is grunting with exertion as they both stumble up to his door. Arya took Sandor's keys unlocking the door, heading towards his kitchen while he directs Gendry to his room.

Gendry flips on the switch, flooding the room with unwelcome light. "That's bright."

"Yup." He could tell Gendry wasn't a patient man, probably only with Arya but other than that he seems to have a short tolerance for drunken men. Letting go of him, Sandor grasps the back of his shirt pulling it up and over his head. He kicks his shoes off and fell flat on his stomach on the bed.

"Thanks," he utters, feeling the pull of sleep already taking over him.

"Yeah, no problem. Get some rest." The light turns off and Sandor was gone to the world a moment later.

∞

Sandor’s eyes flicker open, the sun streams in through the open curtain making him groan in complaint. His head is pounding, closing his eyes tight he takes a couple of deep breaths in and out.

 Rolling onto his side he groggily takes in the water and aspirin that sits on his bedside table. Without a second thought of how it got there, he reaches out taking the aspirin tossing them back and chugging the entire glass of water. His body desperately needs more water, forcing himself out of bed he finds his way into the kitchen and pours glass after glass until he can't drink anymore.

He can vaguely remember Arya and Gendry picking him up at the bar and somehow getting him in their car before dropping him off safe and sound. Whatever their conversation may have been escaping him at this point. He peers down to see he is still wearing his jeans, deciding to see if his truck is outside. The door is unlocked, a note taped to the glass.

‘You drunk ogre, how much do you fucking weigh? Your truck is outside. I figured no one would try to break into your house so I didn't take the liberty to lock the door. The keys are on your coffee table. Next time you're on your own, so might want to cut back on the drinking. How about you and Sansa get your shit together? All right, end of my TED talk.'-Arya

He rips the note off the door, glaring at it for a moment before he starts laughing. He had never met a girl so small and feisty before. She was a breath of fresh air in a world that always seems to be against him.

 He likes that she didn't fear him nor had she ever looked at him in disgust. He wishes he could say the same about her sister but the little bird hardly seemed to want anything to do with him. He craves her lemon cakes and was in desperate need of coffee to fight off his hangover.

Things didn't have to be weird between them. He could still go to the bakery and be kind to her even though her rejection had hurt. He was a man not a boy and men didn't run away with their tails tucked between their legs because a woman doesn't want them.

 Deciding he was tired of running away from his fears, he proceeds to take a quick shower dressing in a white, cotton t-shirt and black jeans. He pairs them off with his combat boots, grabbing his wallet, and phone he was out the door relishing the slight breeze that cooled his flushed skin.

It a ten-minute drive to the bakery but it feels like a lifetime with how fast his heart is pounding, sweat beads at his forehead and he wipes it away, wanting to be presentable when he walks in.

Sansa may not have the same feelings for him, still, he had to accept it for what it was and take things in stride. Parking, he shook the nerves out of his system before heading inside. As always, she was bustling around, this time he heard her humming a tune he didn't recognize but it was a pretty sound coming from her.

She perks up when she notices him drawing closer to the counter. She visibly clutches the rag in her hand so tight he saw her knuckles turning white. Her big blue eyes roam over his face trying to read his expression. He had never been the type to smile much but today he forces himself to do so. It feels strange and he can tell Sansa is wondering if he is in pain because of how forced it is. Releasing a tremulous breath he makes to order.

"A lemon cake and a black coffee, please."

She stands there looking puzzled, almost as if she is frozen to the spot, and he wants to laugh at how silly she looks but decides he'd rather not embarrass her. Finally, she snaps out of her daze dropping the rag like it burned her and gets his order for him, setting both items before him a moment later. He hands her three dollars and she still doesn't say anything as she takes it.

"Thank you," he murmurs, grabbing his items and begins to head towards the door.

"Wait," she calls out stopping him in his tracks.

He drew in a long breath and peered over his shoulder at her. He wasn't prepared to see the frustrated expression tugging her lips into a frown. "Why did you come here?" He could see the walls she was creating around herself, her words fierce-the question feeling almost like an accusation.

Instead of feeding into her contempt towards him, he kept calm and answers her truthfully. "I have a hangover, needed something sweet and a cup of coffee to get me through it. No one makes lemon cakes the way you do. That's why I came here."

Her eyes narrow at him. "That's all?"

"Why else would I be here?"

She scoffs, folding her arms across her chest. "You're going to act like I didn't flat out ignore your calls."

"I don't have the right to force you into anything you don't want to do, Sansa. Obviously, you have your reasons for changing your mind about me. I'm not going to get on my hands and knees and beg you to go on a date with me. It may not look like it but I do have some respect for myself."

She comes around the counter, striding towards him until she stands a couple of inches from him. She is forced to crane her neck back to meet his eyes and he isn't able to stifle his laugh this time. She obviously didn't think this one out and he sees her come to that realization a little too late. Trying to feign that she did this on purpose but he can see her shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"I'm not going to allow myself to get hurt again."

"I would hope not."

"I know your kind, Sandor."

A wretched smile forms on his face. "And what is my kind, little bird?" He taunts, daring her to go on.

As much as he hated to admit, he was enjoying this side of her, no longer that demure woman he met for the first time. Still, he didn't appreciate her acting like she knew anything about him. He had only wanted to go on a date with her and whatever dark thoughts entered her mind had steered her far from him.

"You prey on the poor and when they have nothing to offer you find something else for them to repay you with. I have nothing to offer you and I don't need you to think you have any power over me. I am not one to be claimed and I refuse to make repeat mistakes such as the ones in my past. So, stay away from my bakery, stay away from my sister, and stay away from me," she spat making the hair raise on his body.

Sandor was breathing hard at her casting her judgment on him without even taking the chance to get to know him. Here he thought she was different from everybody else, now, he was witnessing that she cast him in the same light as everybody else did. He was just a monster in her eyes.

"You think I've always been rich? I was raised in a home with my mom, dad, and brother where my mom had to work two jobs just to keep food on the table for my pathetic excuse of a dad and brother. My dad would waste his money away on booze and drugs. My own brother smashed my face into the fireplace where a fire raged because I played with a toy he had no use for and you think I want to have power over anyone? I refuse to be anything like my dad or brother who thought they could control everyone they met. That's how they both wound up dead.

"I worked my ass off to get where I am. All I've ever wanted was to help others and hope that they viewed me as a human being and not a monster because of my outward appearance. I know you're scared that I'm going to hurt you but I've never hurt a single fucking person in my entire life. I have dedicated my life and time to doing everything in my power to be a better person. You're afraid and you have every right to be but I'm scared too. I've never asked a girl out before and here I thought you might actually like me."

Sansa stares at him shell-shocked, lips parted in surprise, eyes darting frantically between his.

 He let out a bitter laugh. "I bet you enjoyed riling me up, liked making me believe that you could actually want a monster like me. Isn't that right, little bird? Wanted to see me pant after you like a dog? Well, you got what you wanted. I know now that women like _you_ will never want men like _me_ ," he bit out.

On that note, he turns to exit unable to bear the fact tears were stinging at his eyes. He really thought she might like him but that couldn't have been any farther from the truth. She would never like him.

Outside he throws both the coffee and the lemon cake in the trash, his throat closing in making it hard to suck in a decent breath of air. He wants to yell and punch something, the tears falling on their own accord. He made it to his truck, his hands trembling as he tries to get the key into the slot.

"Sandor, wait!" He cringes at her voice coming up behind him. Desperation took hold and he shoves the key into the door, trying to escape her. Her hand landing on his bicep proves there is no getting away at this point. He shrugs her hand off.

"I'll leave you alone. I won't come back here." He began to open the door. Her hand flew out pressing against it trying to stop him.

"I'm sorry, what I said was cruel and unjustified. I never took the time to give you a chance and you just poured your heart out to me without a second thought. Please, can we talk?"

"Don't you have a business to run," he snarls.

"It can wait…I closed up for the day."

He let out a harsh breath. "Just leave me alone, Sansa."

"I messed up…I should have listened to Arya when she said you're a good man but I'm terrified to get hurt again. My ex…he did horrible things to me…things no human being should have to be subjected to. And here you are sharing the same hurt and pain as me and I shoved you aside because I let fear rule over me. I don't want to run anymore, Sandor. Please…I want to learn more about you and I want to heal from the past with you by my side. We can go on that date and talk about everything."

"I told you all about me, little bird. There's not much more after all of that."

He stiffens when her forehead presses into his back, both her hands cupping his biceps. "Yes…I know now that your dad and brother got what they deserved in the end and that you didn't follow the same path as them. You became a man worthy of being loved and society cast you aside because of the way you look. I cast you aside because I fear being hurt by a man again. I've liked you since I laid my eyes on you. You are not a monster…you are beautiful and kind. I'm just a fool who couldn't open her eyes to see what was right in front of her.

"I may know that you've been hurt in your past but I want to know more than just the pain you've felt. I want to hear about your mom…if you have a friend that you can rely on…about your journey to becoming a doctor. I want to know what makes you laugh or cry, what your favorite color is, what your favorite book and movie are, what music you enjoy…I want to know everything about you. _Please_ …give us another chance. Let me know you, Sandor…open your heart to me once more."

Said heart was hammering like a war drum inside his chest. He was quaking under her touch. Her words repeating over and over again in his head like a broken record that he never wants to stop listening to.

He slowly turns around, cupping her jaw in his hands lifting her eyes to meet his. "Little bird," he murmurs, feeling overwhelmed by everything going on between them.

Her hand came up to rest on the back of his. "Sandor," she whispers, her gaze flitting to his lips.

As badly as he wanted to kiss her, he stops himself from doing so. He wanted to get to know her before they went any further with intimacy. "Let me take you on that date."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight works for me."

Leaning in he presses a tender kiss to her forehead. Warmth floods his veins and for once in his life, he finally felt like he could heal from the scars of the past.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	7. Anyone Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so honored to have you all as my readers and can't express how much I appreciate each and every one of you!
> 
> Much love <3

                                                            

_**'Cause I could touch a hundred thousand souls** _   
_**But none of them would ever feel like home** _   
_**And no matter how far and wide I roam** _   
_**You're the only one I'll ever know** _

**_∞_ **

Sansa stares at the clock, fisting her hands at her side to avoid nipping at her nails. It had always been a nasty habit that occurs when nerves ate at her.

She began to pace back and forth in front of her door, tugging at the ends of her dress, a slim number covered in daisies that accentuate her slight curves. She decides to put her hair up in a high ponytail- revealing the scar on her neck- something she had never had the confidence to do until she met Sandor. She really hopes that he would like the way she looked tonight.

Joffrey had never complimented her when they went out on their dates. The fear of rejection was starting to make her feel sick to her stomach.

She has no time to settle her racing heart and calm her sweaty palms, a loud knock at the door making her jump in surprise and catching her off guard. 

A shaky breath escapes her mouth, the flats of her boots echoing off the tile as she moves to grab the knob. She opens the door not wanting to keep him waiting and was met by all his glory. He wore a black button-up shirt that hugs his muscles in all the right places, dark jeans, and his usual combat boots finish off his ensemble. She met his gaze, seeing him wide-eyed, his mouth slightly open like he was in shock.

His face became bathed in red, clearing his throat. He cast his head down as if to avoid her gaze. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, his hands shoving into his pockets as he shifts from one foot to the other.

She couldn't stop the laugh that tore out of her. She wasn't even able to feel embarrassed as Sandor looks upon her in a way she couldn't quite read. Covering her mouth, she shook her head, the butterflies swarming inside her at his words causing her to be giddy. "Thank you, Sandor. You look so handsome."

He flushes harder and she wants to kiss him so badly at that moment. His apparent lack of experience in this soothes all the fears she once had. She wasn't alone, both learning how to open up to another in this regard.

"Thank you," he says, running a hand through his raven hair. She wishes it was her hand running through hair she knew would feel like silk between her fingers.

Shooting him a shy smile, she grabs her purse, shutting the door behind her before turning to face him. "Where are we off to?"

"I'm not much good at any of this but there's a festival happening downtown, heard it was something you don't want to miss. I thought you might like it."

Her smile only grew broader. "Sounds lovely."

They walk beside each other down the length of her hall to the elevator where they wait patiently.

 Sandor seems so nervous still and she found herself lightly placing her hand upon his. Without saying a word they thread their hands together. Her heart flew into her throat. His hand engulfs hers, warm and surprisingly calloused against hers. They weren't the hands of a doctor, almost like somebody who worked as a carpenter of some sorts. She found she prefers them this way.

They get in his truck and are mostly silent for the entire drive to the festival. She saw out of the corner of her eye how tense he was, hands gripping the steering wheel like they were at war with one another.

She touches the scar at her neck wondering if he had even noticed it due to how nervous he was. She didn't know how to put him at ease. She nibbles at her lip as she sees them approach a parking lot. Not far off in the distance, she can see a Ferris wheel. As a girl, she had adored the Ferris wheel, always begging her father to take her on it. After he passed away, it had never been the same.

She looks over at Sandor, wondering if this was the way to put him at ease. They would be in the fresh air seeing the city from above.

"Let's go on the Ferris wheel."

"What?" Sandor's voice is strained, grey eyes full of worry.

"I would like to ride the Ferris wheel with you."

He glances over at it and nods.

They exit his truck, once again walking side by side.

 "How was the rest of your day?" She asks, needing to fill the silence that had settled between them.

"It was good. Spent it fretting where to take you tonight," he grumbles.

She laughs, touching his arm feeling him go rigid beneath her fingers. "I'm just glad to be here with you, Sandor. Truly, this is super thoughtful of you."

He shrugs, gaze flitting between where her hand rests and her eyes. "It's just a festival. Not much."

"This is amazing. Also, I love Ferris wheels, so, the date is already off to a good start."

This made a small smile cross his lips.

They reach the booth, buying a large number of tickets. They went on the Ferris wheel, she was right about it calming his nerves, and after she found he was more adamant about talking.

"What's your favorite color?" He asks, taking a small bite of his blue cotton candy.

"I've come to like the color of grey recently," she answers with a wink.

He shook his head, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. "Don't be silly, tell me the truth."

She took a bite of her own cotton candy, pondering the question. "Hmm, I guess I've always been partial to green."

" _Green_?" His dark brow quirks at her answer.

"There is nothing wrong with the color green."

"I never said there was, it's just unusual to hear that as someone's favorite color."

"Well, I tend to stray from the crowd."

"Yes, I suppose you do." He smiles shyly at her, a warm feeling settling low in her belly at the sight. An ache she wasn't familiar with.

Clearing her throat she ignores the feeling. "What's your favorite color?"

"Black."

She rolls her eyes. "Technically, black isn't a color, it's-"

"The absence of all color, yeah, yeah, I know but I still like it." She scowls at him for interrupting her, only sufficing to tear a hearty laugh out of him. "Ah, little bird, I didn't mean to interrupt you but I've heard that so many times already. I like black, even if it isn't a color."

"I guess you have the right to your non-color," she teases, playfully sticking her tongue out him.

The smile fell from his face, his eyes darkening as he looks at her mouth. She shut it, almost biting her tongue off in the process. He tore his gaze away, finishing off his cotton candy, and tossing it in the trash.

"I'll be back. I need to use the bathroom."

She nods and watches him enter one of the many bars that litter the area. A thought enters her head and she follows him inside waiting against the wall for him. Soon enough he exits, looking a bit concerned when he saw her standing by the door. "Is everything okay?"

"I was thinking you and I could bar hop."

"Bar hop?"

"Yes, get a couple of drinks here, go to another bar, get a couple of fancy drinks there, etc."

"You want to get drunk?"

"I think a bit of liquor in our systems will calm us both down. You've been nervous all night and so have I. A bit of alcohol in us will do us both good and get us talking."

"I drove here," he stammers just enough for Sansa to hear it.

"I know but we can just have a drink at each bar. Just have a little fun." She moves closer to him, gently placing her palm upon his racing heart.

"Okay," he replies, finally giving in.

They found a seat at the bar, the bartender walks over. He was an older gentleman that eyes the duo strangely. "ID?" He asks in a cold tone, directed only at Sansa.

She hands it over. He stares at it a moment too long and her and the tender both jump in fright when a hand slams down hard on the counter.

"Do you have a problem? Because if so I'll take my money elsewhere," Sandor growls, low and intense.

 The raspy timbre of his voice hit her right in the gut, the ache returning in full force. She presses a palm to the area, doing her best to abate it.

"N-No, Sir," the man stutters, handing her ID back with trembling hands before asking what they want.

Sandor's eyes landed on her, the heat in them made her almost moan out loud. He must have read her look wrong because they soften.

"Order anything you like, little bird," he murmurs reaching out to push a fallen strand behind her ear, his gaze falling to her neck. Her scar resides on the right side, all this time the left side of her had been facing him. His fingertips fell to the area, his brows furrowing at the middle.

"A Blue moon," she said a little too loud, his hand fell away.

"Whiskey on the rocks."

The bartender nods hurrying to pour their drinks. When he drops them off, Sandor shoves a twenty his way and told him to keep the change. Paying no mind to him, his focus entirely on her causing her to shift nervously on the stool. She took a long pull of her beer, placing it back down, picking at the label.

"I want to murder that motherfucker," he whispers heatedly.

She shivers at the vehemence laced in his words. It didn't bother her at all to hear about someone wanting to end Joffrey's life. He would have it coming for all the terrible things he's done, not to just her, but others as well. He was not a good man. He was evil reincarnated and she feared once he was released from prison that he would find her. She hardly believed Joffrey wouldn't want vengeance.

"How would you murder him?" She finds herself asking before she can stop herself.

He leans in closer, his breath warming her cheek. "I would take his throat between my hands, squeeze so hard that his eyes would bug out of his skull. I would watch him go blue in the face and right as he is about to lose consciousness, I'd let him go, make him believe he had a chance. He would feel his lungs expanding once again with air and when he thinks he is safe, I'd hold him down and carve into his skin, see how he enjoys it. He'd bleed and bleed, beg for mercy, and I would continue to torture him until finally, I gave him the mercy he wanted by ending his life using that same knife to pierce his heart."

She was panting by this point, rubbing her thighs together in the futile attempt to assuage the warmth that had gathered between her thighs. She didn't understand why it turned her on so much to hear how far he would go to get revenge for what her ex did to her. She figures it was because she knew without a shadow of a doubt he could easily do what he told her. He was a mammoth of a man and Joffrey had been a skinny, little thing that would have no chance against Sandor.

"I shouldn't have said that," he says a moment later, draining his whiskey in one go. Waving to the bartender for another. The man didn't waste any time in placing a new glass in front of him.

"I'm glad you did."

"Why?" He asks, seeming stunned that she didn't mind his sinister thoughts when it came to Joffrey.

"He would deserve that torture. He held me down against my will and carved into me, he didn't care no matter how much I begged."

"Piece of _shit_ ," Sandor barks, fist clenching and once again the whiskey was gone.

Sansa finishes her drink.

 "Let's go to another bar," she urges taking his hand. Sandor could only nod, throwing a ten on the bar as he allows her to lead him to the bar across the street where more people flock to.

She orders a fancy cocktail this time around and Sandor, a hoppy beer that made her smile. Of course, he wouldn't want some girly drink she thought to herself.

"I don't want to talk about my ex," she says over the music, having to lean so close to him her lips were right beside his ear. "I want to talk about you. Tell me about how you became a doctor?"

She relishes the way his mouth came up right beside her ear to answer her question. "I have my best friend and his mom to thank. Tormund encouraged me to follow my dreams after I told him I wanted to help others. He helped me study and his mom bought me all the books I needed. I lived with them after my brother and dad fell even more off the wagon. They are the only reason why I'm where I'm at."

She was happy that he had people in his life he could count on. She didn't know where she would be without Arya. Her little sister had helped her through the tough times and no matter the differences between them, they knew they had a special bond that could not be broken. Sansa couldn't wait to meet the people in Sandor's life that had helped him.

"You are an amazing doctor."

"Hardly."

"You are so gentle. I couldn't imagine anybody complaining about your treatment. I bet all your patients love you."

"Gentle? I doubt it. Most of them don't mind me I suppose."

"You were so gentle with me," she whispers against the crest of his ear. She feels him shudder at the touch and perhaps what she said.

He pulls away, chugging a large amount of beer that he ends up spilling some on his beard. He wipes it off hurriedly and even under the dim lighting she could see the red that speckles his cheeks.

Sansa never thought Sandor could blush so much. It was a sight to behold. His embarrassment only wants her to say more things that would cause him to turn red in the face. Holding back on doing so, they finish up their drinks and move onto another bar where they found a booth in a secluded spot.

"So, tell me about your mother?" She asks taking a sip of the long island iced tea she ordered when the waitress stopped by.

Sandor ponders her question for a moment. Tilting his head to the side she saw a tenderness that softens the edges of his eyes. "She was beautiful in every sense of the word. She had long, blonde hair that she liked to weave in intricate braids. Her eyes were a mix of blue and grey. She had pixie-like features, soft and pointy but so perfect. She reminded me of a fairy. I used to be obsessed with watching Peter Pan when I was a kid because Tinker Bell always reminded me of my mother. She made me feel safe and wanted. She taught me manners and to treat women with kindness.

 “I never understood how she could stay with my father. He demeaned her and constantly cheated on her. My brother never treated her with respect. She would always call me her baby and tell me how much she loved me but I never heard her say that to my brother or father. I think they resented me for it. When Gregor held me down in the fire, she hit him over and over again until he decided he was done with me. She held me so tight. It was the first time I ever heard her speak profanities. She shouted at my dad to get help and when he finally listened, she held me and cried. After that day, she was the one who brought me back to good health but I saw the bruises that marred her flesh.

“My father had demanded she not tell the cops the truth. He beat her black and blue to keep her quiet. She wasn't ever the same after that. She loved me but she constantly cried. She fell ill not too long after that and when she passed away she left a note to me explaining how she never forgave herself for not telling the truth. I never blamed her. It killed me when she died. I tried to live with my brother and dad but I was so full of hate we constantly were at each other's throats. I almost killed my brother and I knew I had to get away before I wound up in prison. Tormund gave me that refuge. He helped me mourn the loss of my mom and I was able to come to terms with her passing with his help. I miss her to this day but I look back on her with fond memories."

Sansa was in pure awe of him when he was finished talking. She had never heard any man speak so fondly of their mom before.  Most thought themselves too manly to speak of such things but she was finding out more and more that Sandor was not like any of the men she had come across. He allowed himself to be open with his emotions, not hiding them from her, and showing her a side of him that she was sure he didn't share with most.

She didn't know what to say, so she decides to keep it simple. "Thank you for telling me about her. She sounded lovely…It would have been an honor to meet her."

"She would have loved you," he says with a sad smile.

Reaching out she cups his cheek. "She would have been so proud of the man you have become."

She could see him get teary-eyed before he stops himself. "Tell me about your family. I've met your wild child of a sister but do you have any other siblings?"

"I have four brothers. Robb is the oldest, Jon is actually my cousin but he was raised with us after the untimely death of our aunt, then Bran, and last but not least is Rickon."

"Quite a large family you have."

"My parents really loved each other," Sansa laughs.

"I guess so." He laughs alongside her. "How old are they?"

"Robb and Jon are twenty-eight, Bran is twenty-one, and Rickon is seventeen."

"And Arya is twenty-two?"

"Yup."

"Must have been a wild time growing up in a house full of boys."

"Yes, Arya wasn't much of a girl."

Sandor burst out into laughter, tears at his eyes from laughing so hard. Sansa hopes she would always get to hear the purity of the sound as long as she lives. When he calms down, he wipes tears from his eyes. "Gods, you must have been miserable."

"I was!" She exclaims. "All they would do was wrestle and fight! I only wanted to play with my dolls."

"I would have played your fancy dolls with you," he says with a lazy smile.

She steeples her fingers together, leaning on her elbows towards him. "You don't strike me as the type to play with dolls."

He shrugs, shadowing her. "I played with action figures. I doubt they were much different. They would have been happy to see a woman."

She smiles wide. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, they grew quite bored with one another after a while."

She shook her head at the thought. "I guess time kept us apart for a reason…until now."

"I guess so."

A comfortable silence fell between them as they sipped on their drinks, finishing them off. Sandor paid the bill and they left the bar hand in hand wandering the grounds of the festival that still raged on. They ate burgers to sate their hunger and shared a fancy milkshake with a bunch of baked goods poking out of it on skewers. When Sandor almost poked his eye out they both fell into a fit of laughter, him stating he would stick to a simple milkshake out of a glass the next time. He won her a stuffed bear at one of the stands where you had to knock down a stack of pins. He did it with an ease that made her hot all over as he handed the prize to her.

Later, when the booze wore off, he took her back to her apartment and walked her to her front door.

 She leans back against it, staring up at him through her lashes, nibbling her bottom lip and holding the bear close to her chest.

"I had a really good time tonight," she expresses.

"Me too," he replies.

Both of them stood there not speaking, a tension forming but neither one did anything about it. "Goodnight," she whispers.

That one word seemed to tear him out of his thoughts. His eyes land on her causing her to inhale shakily at the look he cast her. She squirms under his dark gaze, not completely sure what she wants him to do-kiss her or take her against the door.

With a trembling hand, he cups her cheek. She leans into the touch, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. He leans into where their foreheads are pressing together, his burly frame crowding her against the door in a way that had her stomach clenching in anticipation. Both their breaths are shaky.

 "Sansa, I want to kiss you," he says his voice low and husky.

"I _want_ you to kiss me," she replies, her voice barely a whisper.

He pulls back, his eyes roaming all over her, seeming to memorize her every feature. She hears him swallow, it sounds almost painful. His hand trembles as he smoothes it over her cheek, his thumb tracing a path over her bottom lip until he leans in so close that only a small space separates them. Her eyes fell close at the same moment his lips press chastely against hers. He presses a couple of tender kisses against her lips, unsure and innocent. She realizes this might be the first time he's ever done this. He pulls away once again, releasing shallow, shaky breaths.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against her lips.

"Don't be. Just kiss me…we can learn together," she insists.

He let out a small noise at the back of his throat, their eyes met, and whatever he finds there seems to spur him on. He took her head in his large hands and pulls her into a kiss so passionate it has her knees buckling. The kiss showcases his inexperience, but she finds herself enjoying it that much more because of it. His fingers thread in her hair, yanking her head back, their lips hovering over one another as they both suck air in greedily. She let out a small whimper seeing the desire burning in his eyes. She reaches out blindly, her palms landing on his heavily muscled stomach. She felt it clenching under her touch, a groan escaping his mouth.

"You are so beautiful, little bird," he rasps, pressing a kiss to her jaw.

Her skin practically vibrates under his touch, her pulse beating mad at his proximity. She felt like she was about to burst into flames, the need building inside her, something she had never known before. She held her breath as he trails his lips across the delicate skin between her neck and shoulder, inhaling her scent as he does so. "So perfect," he murmurs nipping gently at her neck. She was a glutton for the pleasure he sparks between her thighs, releasing a moan she found his lips with an urgency she didn't know she possessed.

A rumble sounds in his chest, a muscular arm wrapping around her waist, his hand still buried in her hair as he returns her demanding kiss. She was standing on her tiptoes, arching into his broad chest, savoring the way his chest felt pressed to hers. Something shifts and he lifts her into his arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, not minding the way he slams her up against the door, the movement causing her breath to hitch. He took advantage of her mouth opening beneath his. His tongue delves inside, ripping a moan out of him.

It was a sloppy kiss, clumsy and unpracticed but she loves every second of it. Her arms tangle around his thick, corded neck feeling his pulse beating like a war drum. She couldn't get enough of how strong he was. The man had muscle everywhere her hands land. It made her dizzy with lust. It made her want things she had never wanted with her ex. The hands upon her were full of need but she knew they would never hurt her. He would stop if she said so…she didn't want to stop though. She wants so much more and it serves to both terrify and excite her.

Suddenly, he broke away, he was panting hard and fast. "We need to stop," he grunts, pressing his forehead to hers.

"I know." Her eyes flutter close, enjoying being this close to him. His hand untangle from her hair allowing her to cup his scarred cheek.

"I should go," he says, gently placing her back on her feet.

They separate, both adjusting their clothes. "Thank you…"

"I'll see you soon?" His voice full of hope, so much so, she wants to cry.

"Of course." She presses up on her toes, giving him a goodnight kiss.

"Sleep well…little bird," he murmurs before walking away.

That night, she dreams of him.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	8. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Sorry, this update took so long but I hope you all enjoy! <3
> 
> Much love <3

                                                        

 

 ** _Open up your eyes_**  
 ** _To the possibilities_**  
 ** _Take it there love the fear_**  
 ** _You'd be surprised_**  
 ** _How good it feels_**  
 ** _To just let g_** o

**_∞_ **

"You seem extra chipper this morning," Brienne says pouring a cup of coffee and empties four packs of sugar into it that made Sandor grimace. He never could understand how people drank that much sugar, it completely dilutes the actual coffee.

They are stationed in the break room, both not having any patients to attend to. He knew he had to have a dopey smile on his face due to the fact Sansa had been texting him cute shit all day and had just sent him a picture of herself covered in flour. It had been captioned _‘This is why we can't have nice things.'_ She smiles from ear to ear; unbothered by the mess she no doubts had to clean up all by herself. If he wasn't stuck at the hospital for the next couple hours doing paperwork, he would have offered to help.

"Not really," he grumbles, putting on a front so he wouldn't be bombarded by a bunch of questions he had no intention of answering.

Brienne took a seat in front of him, eyeing him with a look that shouts _I see through your bullshit_. "Don't look at me like that. It's weird."

"You may think I don't know you, Sandor, but I do somewhat and I know when you're lying to me. You met someone didn't you?"

"And if I did?" He took a large gulp of his coffee, savoring the bitter taste as he wishes for this conversation to end.

"Then I would say I'm happy for you and you should tell me all about her," she laughs, a sweet sound that always surprises him due to how feisty she could be.

Brienne was the type of woman that took no shit from anybody and where most would find that intimidating, Sandor has always admired it. Of course, her strong-willed personality could grind his nerves but in the end, Brienne had become just as much of a friend to him as Tormund was. He could be honest with her and even though they tend to disagree on most everything, he was glad to have her to challenge him in the workplace when Tormund wasn't around to do so.

"You already know her."

Her blonde brows pull together. "I do?"

He shifts uncomfortably, knowing what he was about to say could be seen as highly unprofessional especially due to the circumstances of why Sansa had been at the hospital that day. "She was my patient."

Brienne tilts her head, not seeming to grasp what he meant. "Patient?

"Sansa Stark, she had been a patient of mine," he clarifies watching as understanding dawns on her.

"The girl that…you performed an exam on…"

He nods and clears his throat. He grabs at his tie the material suddenly feels too constricting around his neck. "I went to her bakery a week before that appointment and she was the most beautiful woman I had laid my eyes on."

"So, you did want to devour her that day?" She almost asks to herself.

"I should have stopped-"

"You should have said something, damn it, Sandor," she hisses, smacking a palm on the table. "If you two knew each other one of you should have spoken up and stopped the whole thing right then and there but you two just pretended you had never seen each other." She sighs and sat back in her seat. "However, I guess you two wanted each other from the start and that is reason enough why you two faked not knowing each other."

Sandor was taken aback by the way she practically had a conversation with herself. "I guess you came to the conclusion without needing me to tell you," he mutters finishing his coffee.

"I had never seen a girl look at you like that or moan when you touched them."

He becomes basked in red, embarrassed at how blunt she had been. "She didn't look at me in any type of way and she didn't moan, stop spouting nonsense," he lies through his teeth.

"Give me a break, that girl couldn't keep her eyes off of you. She only looked away when you looked at her. I mean, it was totally unprofessional for you to stare at her between the thighs as you did but the girl didn't seem to mind so much, especially when she was-"

He raises his hand stopping her, not wanting to hear the rest of what she was about to say. "I get the picture, Brienne, thank you for that. So, you don't think it's unprofessional for me to date her?"

"Psh, of course not, doctors and nurses date their patients all the time."

He let out a whoosh of air, feeling relieved that it wasn't as big of a deal as he had made it out to be. "I really like her."

"I can tell. As long as I've known you, you've never even hinted at liking anybody. I'm glad you found somebody."

"Tormund really likes you," he says without even thinking.

She straightens in her seat. "That was one way to swerve the conversation."

He rubs the back of his neck. "I mean, Tormund is a really nice guy, he won't stop raving about you and it's starting to grind on my nerves."

"I'm sure it is," she says with a roll of her eyes.

"You don't have to call him but I promised I'd give you his number and thank you for supporting me and my relationship." He stood pushing a piece of paper towards her.

She took the paper tucking it into her front pocket. "Anytime, Sandor."

He knew he had ended the conversation between them awkwardly but he didn't really know any other way to pass on Tormund's message. Giving her a quick wave he made his leave. Once in his office, he sent Sansa a quick message asking her if she wanted to come to his place for dinner.

It didn't take her long to respond with a ‘yes' and heart emoji.

He slumps down into his chair and can’t stop the smile that crosses his face.

∞

Sansa rang the doorbell of the quaint one-story house. It was exactly the way Arya had described to her. It didn't come as much of a surprise to her that even though Sandor had a decent amount of money that he had picked a modest home. Sandor had proven he was a man of the simpler things in life. It was just one of the many things she admired about him.

When the door opens, Sandor stood there his jaw dropping when he took her in. She became shy under his gaze, tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear as she held tighter to the strap of her purse.

"You are so beautiful," he murmurs. His grey eyes had taken a darker shade to them, one that bespoke of his desire for her.

"Thank you." She blushes and admires the strong-set of his shoulders covered by a black t-shirt that hugs his burly body in the best way possible

He ushers her inside, she could feel his gaze on her, the dress helping to emphasize all her curves and she was glad it was doing its job right. He shut the door behind her with a soft click and she shivers when his palm made contact with the small of her back. "The dining room is this way."

She nods allowing him to lead her in the right direction. The aroma in the air fills her senses and causes her mouth to water. She becomes wide-eyed when they enter the dining area, the lights were dim, and a candle stood as the centerpiece between two plates of food that look absolutely delectable. He moves to hold the chair out for her and she thanks him as she took a seat. The plate in front of her was salmon, brown rice, with an assortment of veggies that made her ready to dive in face first.

Sandor took his seat across from her, looking nervous as he waits for her to say something. "You cooked this?"

"Yes," he says with a nod.

"This is amazing! Thank you so much." Her heart was full that he had taken the time to do this for her and she almost was ready to shove the food aside and have her fill of him instead. However, she wasn't about to let all his hard work go to waste. She grabs her fork and took a big bite of the salmon, moaning at the different spices that hit her taste buds.

He clears his throat and shifts noticeably in his seat. She notices him place a napkin on his lap for a moment and realizes why he had. Her face heats in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, it just tastes amazing."

"Don't be sorry. I'm glad you enjoyed it." His voice is strained as he shook his head and began to eat his own meal.

They ate in relative silence and for the entirety of it; Sansa holds her moans of delight back. She had never tasted anything so good in her life, not even the sweets she made could compare to this. He had tenderized the meat to the point it melted like butter in her mouth and the rice didn't taste dry nor did the vegetables taste bland. Such a simple meal had been made to taste like pure perfection.

Once they were finished, Sandor took their plates and offers her a drink. She could use something a bit stronger than the water they had at their meal, so she agrees and follows him into the kitchen. "I have beer or wine, whatever you prefer." He moves to the sink, rinsing the dishes off, and places them in the dishwasher.

"I would love a beer."

He smiles at that, wiping his hands off on a towel, grabbing two beers out of the fridge. He opens hers and hands it to her. "Dinner was amazing."

"It was nothing much." He shrugs his shoulders, opening his own beer and taking a hearty swig.

She rolls her eyes. "You're too humble. Seriously, it was the best thing I've ever tasted."

He cups the back of his neck, rubbing at the spot. "Thank you."

She saw his cheeks turn bright red. She still couldn't get over how shy he could become when complimented. It continuously made her want to see how much she could make him blush. Instead of tormenting him she suggests they watch a movie to which he quickly agrees. He put on a classic, Fight Club, and they settle in on the couch next to one another. His arm wraps around her shoulders and she cuddles into his side. They get lost in the movie, enjoying the chaos of it all.

The movie ends, both of them had already polished off their beers much too comfortable to move to get another one. She snuggles into the crook of his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin there. He goes rigid under the pressure.

Sansa pulls back. "I'm sorry, that was a little forward of me."

"No, I liked it," he confesses a slight stutter to his words.

"Oh." She could see the tension in his shoulders, the veins in his neck standing on edge as he searches her eyes.

She lifts a hand, tracing the veins that stood out against the tan of his skin, even the small layer of hair there couldn't hide how taut he was. She felt his pulse thundering beneath her ministrations. Her lips lower once again to the pulse point beating like mad, sucking gently she hears a rumble in his chest. His hand cups the nape of her neck, startling her before she resumes the trail of kisses along his neck up to his jaw unable to care about the hair that irritates her lips.

"Little bird," he breathes, her lips finding the scarred skin of his cheek.

"Do you want me to stop?" Her lips were right beside his ear when she asks and she notes his entire body shuddering.

"I have no sensation where I'm scarred…you don't have to kiss me there…"

"I want to," she murmurs, nipping gently at the lobe of his ear before she continues to press her lips against the marred skin.

He curses under his breath, his hand moving to sink into her hair clutching at the thick strands. She moans when he tugs her head back gently, his eyes ablaze with a need that she felt all the same. The ache that had begun low in her stomach had become a raging wildfire that needs to be sated.

 She begs with her eyes for him to kiss her and he obliges his lips slamming upon hers only a moment later, stealing the breath from her lungs. His kiss is steepled in carnal hunger, his tongue prying her lips apart demanding entrance. She swallows his groan of pleasure down when his tongue finds hers.

He grabs at her waist with his free hand, she gets the hint crawling into his lap, her thighs cradling his on either side. She lowers feeling his hardness pressed right against the core of her through the material of her underwear. They couldn't seem to get enough of one another, their hands wandering and exploring every inch of one another. A maddening exchange that had them moaning into each other's mouths. She rolls her hips against him, loving the control she had in this position, one that she had never experienced before.

She parts her lips on a gasp when his hand splays out on her thigh, spanning the entirety of it. She tugs her dress up to see the visual of it panting at the intoxicating sight of tan against pale skin. His long, thick fingers clutch at her skin hard, but not enough to bruise.

"You are something else, little bird," he rasps, his fingers inching up higher, eyes looking to her for permission.

She nods. He places his other hand on her opposite thigh and both hands skim up the silky skin until he cups her bottom, giving it a squeeze. She moans as he shifts his hands up to her hips where his fingers sink into the supple skin. She rocks her hips at the way he clutches onto her and is rewarded with a soft groan that escapes from his lips.

"I want to do something for you, Sansa. If you'll let me," he pants into the space between them.

She presses her forehead to his. "You can do whatever you want, Sandor."

He lifts her into his arms without hesitation and that is how she finds herself on his bed laying on her back with him standing at the edge of the bed looking down at her. He stares at her with a look of awe and she blushes under his reverent gaze. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. "Move up, put your head on the pillow."

She obeys his command, watching as he lowers one knee onto the bed and then the other the bed creaking under his weight. He places his hands on her knees and gently pushes her thighs apart, his dark gaze latches to the space between her legs. She had worn a pair of pink panties, nothing fancy, but it didn't seem that way with his nostrils flaring and his chest heaving.

His hand slid under one knee pressing it to her chest and the other follows exposing herself so much so that she turns red all over.

 "You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You are perfect." He lowers o his belly, allowing her legs to go over his shoulders. She goes rigid when she feels his lips press against the scar at her left inner thigh.

"Relax," he murmurs against the skin pressing another soft kiss there. She could scarcely breathe as he continues to press kisses all over both scarred thighs, seeming to erase the evil that had put them there.

His breath ghosts over the apex of her thighs and she releases the breath she had been holding in. He rose back onto his haunches, grasping at the hem of her panties with both hands.

 "I've never done this before, forgive me if I'm terrible at it," he mumbles, lowering his head so she couldn't see him due to the hair that now shrouds his face.

"No one has done this for me before," she confesses, his expression was thunder-struck when he looks up at her.

"Then they were fools." He tugs her panties off, groaning at the sight of her pink flesh and without wasting another moment he lowers back onto his stomach parting her folds with his thumbs and licks a strip from her entrance to clit.

She bucks under the initial touch. He places a hand to her stomach sufficing to hold her down as he continues to lick her up and down. She moans at the power of his hold over her, his mouth sucking at her nub. She cries out helplessly, enjoying this form of dominance.

She loves that Sandor was so massive and yet so gentle all at the same time. She trusts him, knowing he would never hurt her. Even though she can tell he is unsure of what he is doing, she finds his inexperience to be just what she needs. She had only ever been with Joffrey and he had never cared about her pleasure. Sandor was eager and even for being a bit older than her, was just as uneducated in this as she was.

He swirls his tongue in maddening circles around her pleasure point, his hand cupping her breast, thumb ghosting over her nipple. She thrust her fingers into his hair, tugging at the strands to ground herself.

"Sandor," she gasps, his tongue going taut and spearing into her tight heat. His fingers tweak and pull at her nipple sparking so many different sensations in her she can’t stop herself from screwing her eyes shut.

She can feel the pressure building up inside her, his lips find her nub once more and two fingers push inside of her curling forward. The dam inside of her bursts without warning as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. She trembles as he slowly pushes his fingers in and out of her, pressing one last kiss to her sensitive spot before pulling out of her.

He licks her essence off his fingers and it was enough to make her have a mini-orgasm. He moves up her body, his hips slotting between her thighs. His hand ghosts over her neck, thumb smoothing over her lip. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, still in a daze.  "No, it felt _amazing_."

A shy smile forms on his face. "I'm glad."

She smoothed her hand over his chest. "I could return the favor."

He turns red. "It's okay. I just wanted to make you feel good. Let's just get some rest."

"Sandor-"

He cut her off with a press of his lips against hers. "Don't get me wrong, I would love for you to do that for me but right now I just want to cuddle with you…if that's okay."

She saw a bit of fear in his eyes and understands she shouldn't push too much on the subject.

They get ready for bed, her stripping to just her undergarments and him his briefs. She didn't have enough time to admire the strength of his body because he turns off the lights. However, she is able to enjoy the feel of his warmth pressing up against her.  She was still reeling over what he just did for her but soon enough she found herself falling asleep. Happy that she had met such a teddy bear that she knew could still protect her if it came down to it.

She would fear nothing as long as she had him by her side.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	9. Alone Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so sorry this took so long to be updated. I was busy with work and to be honest, a lack of inspiration. However, I really hope you all enjoy this chapter :) 
> 
> I just want to say thank you to each and every one of you for your beautiful comments and support. It truly means the world to me!
> 
> The next chapter is going to be the continuation of this one and be a bit angsty. 
> 
> Much love <3

                                                                  

_**I just wanna be alone, together** _   
_**I just wanna get to know, you better** _   
_**Baby, we can take it slow, forever** _   
_**Wasting all the time, looking in each other's eyes** _

_**∞** _

 

Sandor didn't know it was possible to feel the way he did for Sansa, let alone another human being. All his life he had been an outcast, rejected by the world due to his scars and brooding demeanor. He had befriended Tormund and reluctantly Brienne but the way he felt towards them was entirely different from what he was experiencing with Sansa. It was a tidal wave of emotion that shook him to the core. He thought about her every second they were apart, always counting down the days until they would see each other again. He had never been a lovesick fool, it would take some time to adjust to the new onslaught of feelings but it was also something he looked forward to entirely.

A knock at his office door pulls him out of his reverie. "Come in," he says gruffly pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

Brienne waltzes in with a peculiar smirk on her face as if she was hiding the greatest secret in the world. He raises a brow at her, trying to figure out what she could be up to. She shut the door, his attention was drawn to her hand still behind her back. "How may I help you?"

She practically skips up to his desk and slams down a piece of paper that read in big, bold lettering, ‘ _Kings Hospital is proud to present our 30th Annual Doctor's Ball'_ and went on to explain the details of the event. "You should invite Sansa," Brienne exclaims clapping her hands together in excitement.

Sandor sneers at her, almost compelled to grab the offending paper and toss it in the trash. To avoid upsetting her, he clears his throat and tries to put a polite look on his face. He was sure it came out looking forced and creepy. "I appreciate your enthusiasm but I'm going to have to decline."

Brienne's smile drops, her arms fold over her chest and she juts her hip out giving him a death glare. He crosses his own arms over his burly chest and tilts his head in challenge. She blew out a frustrated huff of air. "Come on Sandor. This would be _good_ for you. You never go to these dances and now you have the chance to go with a beautiful woman. I'm tired of taking your donations and handing them in for you. The board wants to see you there. You are one of their most promising doctors and they would be delighted to have you show up for once."

He scoffs at her silly words. The last thing the hospital board wants was for him to attend their stupid little dance. He did his part by giving a donation every year and he could sleep like a baby at night with that thought in mind. Sandor didn't feel like he was missing out on anything by not going and he was fine with that. "I've never attended before and I think no one has been missing my presence." He spoke his words with an air of finality and turns his attention back to the document pulled up before him.

"Do not come at me with that bullshit. Stop being selfish and think about how much fun Sansa would have going with you. There is plenty of things to do other than dancing. There is an assortment of food and alcoholic drinks in case you find yourself despising your existence whilst there but I think with Sansa on your arm you will have a grand time."

Sandor knew Brienne would be relentless and wouldn't stop nagging him until he gave in. Suddenly, a brilliant idea hit him, enough so that it tips the corner of his mouth up. Taking his glasses off, he set them down and peers up at her. "All right, I'll go but on one condition."

"Shoot," she says with a confident smile.

"You have to ask Tormund to go with you."

She shot him an incredulous stare and shook her head. "No."

"Great, then I'm not going either."

"Are you serious? I don't even _know_ the guy."

"Then ask him to the ball and _get_ to know him. Even if you don't like him in a romantic sense, he's a nice guy and a great friend. Tormund isn't the type to force women to do anything they are not comfortable with. He would respect you and your feelings."

Sandor could see the wheels in her head spinning as she contemplates what he said. She let out a sigh moments later and nods. "Deal."

They shook on it and she exits somewhat deflated. Still, he knew once she gave Tormund a chance that she would at least find him to be someone worth having as a friend. Now, he had to gather the courage to ask Sansa out. Nerves ate at him but finally, he texts her asking if she would meet him for a cup of coffee tomorrow. She agrees instantly. Thankful for that, he begins to focus on the work at hand and avoids thinking too much into how he would go about asking her.

∞

They sit in companionable silence across from one another outside a local coffee shop, sipping on their coffee, his black and hers a caramel latte. The gentle breeze ruffles his midnight locks, casting a clear vision of the scars that form a twisted puzzle upon his face. She shouldn't stare so hard, not wanting to offend him. Still, she remains transfixed by the pattern it forms. It dips down, right to the edge of his beard. The knowledge of how he received such burns causes a deep burning of hatred for the brother that did so to him. Steering away from that dark, train of thought, she cast her eyes down the length of his corded neck, admiring the width of his shoulders. He truly was a powerfully built man. She couldn't help but want to see what he looked like underneath the layer of his clothes.

Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed that Sandor had begun to fidget under her fervent gaze. "Sansa," he says, grey eyes wandering over her face, a look of worry in them. "Everything okay?"

She became flushed instantly. She waves a hand in front of her as she tries to play off the fact she had been checking him out. "I'm totally fine." She forces a smile on her face, knowing it must have come out quite strange with the way his good brow drew in at the middle.

"Okay." He laces his fingers together in front of him, casting his eyes to the side, away from her.

She nibbles at her bottom lip. "I'm sorry. I just start to daydream is all."

He peers up at her, his lips twitch, a habit that he had whenever he was annoyed or turned on. "What were you daydreaming about?" His voice came out in a husky rasp, one that sent fissions of heat straight to her core. They had been together for weeks now and she had begun to note the differences in his voice whenever he was feeling a certain way. This tone was meant to tease, drive her insane to the point she was ready to throw herself at him. After all these weeks he had never let her return any type of physical intimacy but kissing. He was adamant about giving her pleasure and always stopped her when it came to him. It was the reason why she still didn't know what he looked like underneath his wonderful suits and casual Henley and jeans.

"Nothing," she says after a stretch of time where they just stare at one another, a small smirk curls his lips.

"Nothing?" He shook his head. "I don't believe you."

She moves to take a drink of her coffee, wrapping her lips around the straw she didn't break eye contact as she sips at the sugary contents. He flicks his gaze down, staring adamantly at her mouth, the smirk fell away drawing his lips into a thin line. She saw longing and desire wash over him and just as suddenly as she witnesses it, he turns his eyes away from her as if she had scalded him.  "I have a question for you." His voice is strained. He seems almost upset. It causes her to shift nervously where she sat.

"Ask me."

"The hospital I work at is throwing their thirtieth annual doctor's ball. Normally, I don't even go. I give my donation money to Brienne and she hands it in for me. The money goes to several charities and I feel good about myself for a moment. I wasn't planning on going this year until I met you and realized I might actually have someone to go with. I guess what I'm trying to ask is if you would like to accompany me…as my date?"

Sansa notices the tension that riddles his body. He truly fears that she would reject him, something she never could imagine herself doing. She is pleased that he actually wants to take her as his date and the last thing she would ever do was say no. Reaching across the table she places her palm upon the top of his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He searches her gaze, she rewards him with a smile that softens the edges of his eyes and mouth. "I would love to go with you, Sandor."

"Thank you, little bird," he murmurs, a small smile forms and hers only sufficed to grow wider.

They continue the rest of their time together chatting about simple things until he had to go to work and her to go tell Arya of the exciting news of the ball she would be attending. She could barely quell her giddiness and hurries to Arya's small one story that she shared with Gendry.

∞

"A ball?" Arya asks with a raise of her brows. She had been in the middle of cleaning when Sansa arrived and had been genuinely happy about the surprise visit. The minute she had sat down after handing Sansa a beer, Sansa couldn't stop herself from blurting out how Sandor had invited her to a ball with him.

Sansa nods, smoothing a stray hair behind her ear. "Yes, I guess they have a ball every year, it helps to raise donations for charity."

Arya nods. "Nice. So, I'm guessing you want help picking something to wear?"

Sansa clasps her hands together in front of her, giving Arya her most hopeful expression. "I would be forever grateful if you would."

Arya rolls her eyes, finishing off her beer in one go and set it down on the coffee table. "I don't know why you even ask for my opinion. Look at me." She waves a hand at her ragged jeans and t-shirt that was two sizes too big for her. Sansa figures it was Gendry's. Arya may not be a girly girl like Sansa but she still had a pretty decent opinion when it came to fashion. She had helped Sansa in the past on many occasions such as interviews and what to wear when she was able to get the loan for her bakery. In the end, she trusts Arya's outlook on most things and knew she would help her look gorgeous for the night out with Sandor.

"You've always helped me with my outfits. I trust you."

Arya acknowledges the comment with a shrug of her shoulders. "Did you want to go shopping?"

"If you have the time."

"Yeah, I'm just going to give Gendry a call real quick and we can head out."

"Of course."

Sansa waits patiently while Arya left the room to call Gendry. She admires the drawings on the walls and the wooden knights on the coffee table, no doubt done by Gendry. Sansa couldn't help but be happy for her little sister, she had found a guy that was perfect for her in every sense of the word. They compliment one another, something that Sansa could feel with Sandor. She was restless in her excitement to go shopping to pick out the perfect dress for the event.

Eventually, Arya exits her room, car keys in hand and motions towards the door. They drove to the mall and Sansa tries on dress after dress to the point it was growing to be tiresome when she was unable to find anything to her liking. She didn't know why she had the sudden urge to break down and cry. It was just a dance and she knew Sandor would think she was beautiful in anything she wore. Still, she wanted to impress his colleagues and show them how much she adored Sandor.

Arya places a gentle hand on Sansa's shoulder, sensing her obvious distress. "We can't give up. We _will_ find the dress you're searching for."

Sansa thanks her and on that note, they continue their trivial search until finally, she tries on a dress that folds to her body almost too perfectly. Arya and Sansa both stare in the mirror for what felt like hours until Arya broke the silence.

"You look gorgeous."

A smile forms on Sansa's face. "I don't think I've ever looked this good in a dress before."

Arya scoffs. "Don't be stupid. You're always a knockout no matter what you wear."

Sansa blushes and thanks her for what felt like the hundredth time. She smoothes her hands down the silky material of the dress, a red number with thin straps that showcases her cleavage in a subtle and classy way. It highlights the curve of her thin waist and generous hips leading all the way down to her ankles where it flows elegantly. Sansa smiles at the way it made her red hair stand out even more against the pale of her skin, a contrast that she hopes Sandor would admire as much as she did.

∞

He paces back and forth across the room, adjusting his tie every millisecond. Sandor had already broken out into a sweat, smoothing down his hair he tries everything in his power to just relax. He rolls his shoulders, shook his arms out, and took several deep breaths in and out. His heart began to slow its frantic roll and he kept telling himself that everything would be fine.  A knock at the door was enough to set all his nerves spiraling back out of control. He becomes rooted to where he stood, staring at the door like it would burn him if he went near it. Another knock forces him to move his feet and open the contraption, glad that it did not burn him like he figures it might.

Sandor goes to open his mouth but snaps it shut when he sees Sansa and what she is wearing. To think he had thought angels didn't exist before tonight. Now, he finds that is completely untrue because an angel stands before him. Her vibrant red hair cascades down past her shoulders in gentle waves that tempt his fingers to reach out and touch them. Her big blue eyes watch him with a worried look. He notices her eyelids are painted with gold shadow and her lashes are longer than usual. He had never been a man that knew much about makeup but he finds she looks good with and without it. He drifts his gaze lower to where she nibbles on her red lip. He doesn't stare long knowing it would be the end of him. Her dress was as red as her hair, contrasting against her pale skin in the best way possible. Sandor is in awe of her and the way the dress molds to her body like a second skin. He wants to reach out and grab the flare of her hips and kiss her as a man starved. Instead, he clears his throat and finds his voice.

"You look beautiful."

She becomes shy at the comment, red tinting her cheeks. "Thank you, Sandor. You look quite handsome yourself."

Sandor didn't agree, he wore a black suit and blue button-up underneath that made him feel strange. However, Tormund had insisted that Sandor needed to add a little color to his ensemble. He had been ecstatic when Brienne had invited him to the dance with her and Sandor had found he was quite happy for his friend. They would all meet up at the dance and Sandor could only hope that he looked decent standing next to Sansa who shined as bright as the sun.

"I will look like a simpleton next to you," he jokes a small quirk to his lips to signal he wasn't being too self-deprecating.

She smiles in return and lightly slaps his chest, her eyes growing a bit wide and lingering on the spot. He wishes they could forgo the dance all together and enjoy a night in. Sadly, that wasn't in the cards so he grabs his keys and donation before escorting Sansa to his truck. He helps her inside and hops in on his side, hoping that tonight would go smoothly.

"Thank you again for inviting me tonight."

"Thanks for agreeing to go with me. I don't usually do well in large crowds," he murmurs adjusting his tie once again while keeping one hand on the steering wheel.

She reaches over and places a hand on his thigh that made him jolt slightly. He eyes her as they pull up to a stop sign. She gave him one of her warm smiles that made the tumultuous feelings inside him turn calm.

"Don't worry. I'll be by your side the entire time and whenever you want to leave is all up to you. I'm just happy to get out of my apartment for a night." She was too sweet and he didn't know what the hell she saw in an old, grumpy man like himself. He had someone to thank for being allowed to gaze upon such a gorgeous woman and know that she only had eyes for him. Sansa could have any man she wanted and yet she had chosen him. He would never forget that.

Sandor notes her hand still rests perilously high on his thigh. He clears his throat and shifts due to the inevitable happening inside his pants. His cock was desperate for attention, after some six odd years of nothing but his own hand touching himself, his body was behaving like a teenage boy due to one innocent touch. His body was practically begging for her hand to grasp him and he tightens his own grip on the steering wheel in return.

"Are you okay? You seem really tense?" Her naivety was driving Sandor crazy.

"I'm fine." His voice came out clipped and standoffish. He wants to bang his head against the window for being an ass to her.

"I'm sorry…if I did some-." She starts but he cut her off. "It's not you, it's your fucking hand, little bird," he huffs out in frustration.

Her eyes wander down, he notices them widen a little at what she thought was an innocent touch of her palm against his thigh, now she saw how close it was to his member. Instead of taking her hand off like he thought she would, she tightens it further making his pulse spike.

He clutches her hand in his own calloused one. "Sansa, _please_." His voice is strained and his cock was trying to break free of its confinement.

"Sandor," she pants and his blood heats. _Fuck me. Fuck me._ This woman is killing him. He has a death grip on her hand, but she forces it higher causing him to gasp when her palm made contact with her target. Stopped at a red light he shot her a dark look only to see her eyes were alight with hunger, red lips parted at feeling him hard and ready in the palm of her hand.

"You're a bad fucking girl." He is taken aback by his own vulgar words.

"Only for you Sandor, only for you," she lewdly whispers. She strokes him over the material of his slacks until he can't take it anymore. He rips her hand off of him and forces it back into her own lap.

" _Enough_ ," he snaps and she startles at the booming tone of his voice.

Placing his hands back on the steering wheel he grips it so hard his knuckles were turning white. The sexual tension that was once in the small space of the car is now filled with awkwardness. She was fiddling with the strap of her pretty red dress and staring out the window, her shaky breaths fogging up the pane. _Damn it!_ _Did I have to ruin every good moment due to my cowardice?_ His brain is running a mile a minute trying to conjure up some form of apology that will make up for his actions. Yet, he was never a genius with words, a cat was always biting down on his tongue making him seem like a complete douche-bag. Taking a deep breath in and out, he forces himself to open up to her.

"I'm sorry, I haven't been touched in so long I guess I just panicked." His heart is pounding at the confession. He kept his eyes on the road refusing to make eye contact with her even for a moment.

"You don't have to apologize. I understand." Her melodic voice whispers.

"I want those things with you. Trust me, I can't believe how lucky I am to be even talking to you let alone you wanting to touch me, but I want to take it slow when it comes to my pleasure. I enjoy doing those things for you I'm just nervous is all."

"Don't be sorry," she says. "I like you a lot and if we have to take things slow, then I'm on board completely. I'm the one who is sorry. I don't know what possessed me to do that. I'm quite embarrassed about it all." When he chances a look over at her, he sees that her cheekbones are tinted pink. She is so beautiful, to think she is interested in a fool like him was beyond his comprehension.

"Please, don't be embarrassed. It was fucking hot." He shifts in his seat because just thinking about where her hand was only moments ago is causing his blood to boil and his cock is seeking relief once again. _Down boy._

"G-good…" She stammers prettily, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Silence fell between them once again until finally, they arrive at the museum of arts where the ball would occur. They park and as always he moves to help her out of the truck. She shivers slightly at her hand touching his, refusing to look up at him. Calming his nerves, he gently grasps her chin with his thumb and pointer finger tilting her face to look up at him. Her breath caught, a groan left him looking at those doe eyes of hers and pretty red lips. He was unable to stop himself as he traps her against his car and presses his lips against her enticing ones. Instantly she reaches out holding onto his neck as her lips part eagerly for him. His tongue delves inside and the sensation of kissing her nearly knocks him on his ass. When he pulls away, her breathing has quickened mingling with his harsh pants as they stare at each other, desire in her eyes and reflected in his as well no doubt. She pulls him into another hungry kiss, whimpering into his mouth. His hand drifts to her hip and pulls her even closer to his body. Their chests were touching, both their hearts beating frantically against one another's. His brain had lit on fire by this point. The warmth spreading throughout his body almost unbearable. They broke off the kiss at the same time and he is compelled to press his forehead against hers, tenderly stroking her jaw.

"You're a fucking angel, did you know that?"

"I'm not," she whispers against his lips. Her kisses are pure exhilaration, but also a form of torture in their own right.

"We should probably go inside."

A soft laugh escapes her. "That's a good idea." She gave him another gentle kiss causing him to sigh like a schoolboy with a crush.

He didn't know what he would do if she weren't with him at this moment as he took her hand and led her inside.

This woman had turned his world upside down and he couldn't be happier.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	10. Your Love Is Calling My Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took forever to write this ughhh, so sorry!
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Your comments are all so beautiful and I appreciate you all giving my stories the time of day <3
> 
> Much love <3
> 
> Also, I will be updating this chapter with the cover art I wanted to add :)

                                                

 

_**I ride the freeway down by the harbor** _  
_**I catch a strong wind through my mind** _  
_**I drew a light on the wall for the tallest tier** _  
_**If there's a line, cross it off for the ragged rails** _  
_**If there's a weight on you, then it's on me too** _  
_**We're like a slave, babe, for our love, babe** _

_**∞** _

__

Sansa is taken aback by how many people crowd the museum, transfixed by the paintings that hang on the walls as Sandor leads them towards the bar in the corner of the large room. There is a wooden dance floor centered in the middle of the museum. Tons of people have already let go of all inhibition and dance like there is no tomorrow that brings a smile to her face. Sansa has always loved dancing ever since she was a little girl. She figures she'd slowly warm up to the idea of trying to convince Sandor to dance with her. She stifles a giggle under her hand at the thought of him towering over everyone with a grumpy smile on his face as she pulled him onto the floor. Sandor raises his good brow at her and she blushes telling him it was nothing. She is thankful he doesn't persist with the conversation. Sansa didn’t really know if he could dance or not and she didn’t want to offend him by saying otherwise.

As they move closer to the bar she looks on in awe at the winding staircase that draws her attention to the second story that holds even more paintings and from what she can see there are different halls that she assumes only display more art. Sansa never thought a ball could be held in a museum but finds herself pleasantly surprised by it all.

They arrive at the bar and Sandor lets her know it is an open bar so she can get whatever she wants. She orders a corona and notices Sandor's mouth quirk into a small smile as he orders himself a Sculpin IPA. Without even having to say anything to one another they mutually head towards the paintings and begin to peruse all the artwork. They stand before one of an angel with black wings sat on his knees as he holds a woman close to him. The painting is a mixture of utter grief and agony. The angel looks to be yelling to the heavens as lightning strikes around him, the woman in his arms presumed to be gone from his world.

Sansa can practically feel the heartache radiating off of the painting. "It's quite sad," she murmurs taking a sip of her beer to swallow down the tightness in her throat.

"He must have really loved her," Sandor replies. She looks up at him to see he was staring down at her and a whole new wave of emotions overcame her seeing the affection and longing in his stormy gaze. Her body flushes with heat and she feels like bees are swarming around in her stomach. She shoves a piece of hair behind her ear to stop the need to fidget.

"I'm sure he did," Sansa stammers.

Sandor looks like he was about to say something but is interrupted when a hand lands on his shoulder, both their attention being drawn to the newcomer.

"Sandor, my friend, good to see you."

Sansa peers around Sandor to see a red-haired man and a woman with short blonde hair that is a few inches taller than he was. Sandor smiles down at the man shaking his hand and gave the woman a brief, awkward hug. He turns to Sansa, taking her hand in his.

"Sansa, this is my best friend Tormund and this is my other friend whom I work with, Brienne. I'm sure you remember her."

Sansa blushes and nods remembering now the tall woman that had been the nurse to Sandor. "It's very nice to meet you, Tormund, and good to see you again Brienne.

A huge smile appears on Tormund's face. "I'm glad I finally get to meet the lassie that has stolen my best friend's heart. You are even more beautiful than I had imagined."

"You are too kind," Sansa replies feeling slightly embarrassed at having all the attention on her.

"I'm glad to see you again, Sansa. Also, I have you to thank for turning this big old grump into a _less_ big old grump," Brienne teases with a wink.

Sandor rolls his eyes at the comment and squeezes Sansa's hand gently. "It definitely took time for him to warm up to me but I'm glad he gave me a chance."

Brienne waves a hand in front of her. "Psh, he would have been crazy to say no to such a lovely lady."

"Yes, I would have," Sandor chimes in and wraps his arm around Sansa's shoulder pulling her into the warmth of his side. She feels so small and safe being held like this. Sometimes she wonders if it would be such a bad thing to forgo all responsibilities to spend the rest of her life in his bed and snuggle into his side. Perhaps she could proposition Sandor, she giggles in her head at the silly thought forgetting that she had been having a conversation with his friends. She has to be as red as a tomato now seeing Tormund’s knowing look, he winks at her and turns to Brienne.

"Well, let's give the two lovebirds some alone time. Would you like to dance?" Tormund asks Brienne and Sansa swore she saw a faint blush appear on her face. She simply nods and takes his proffered hand. They say their goodbyes and head onto the dance floor.

"They are nice. They look cute together too," Sansa remarks watching as Tormund leads Brienne onto the dance floor, a slower song playing now. Tormund places a hand on her waist and a blinding smile appears on Brienne’s face as they began to sway like teenagers to the music.

"She was quite stubborn. I was sure she was never going to give him the time of day but I'm glad she did. Tormund is the nicest guy I've ever met."

"How did you guys meet?"

"In high school. He was being bullied and I intervened. He thought he owed me but I told him he didn't. Still, somehow we just wound up hanging out all the time and became really good friends. When I ran away from home his mom took me in and helped me get all the books I needed to become a doctor. They did way more for me than I ever did for them." Sansa looked on in awe at the love that showed in his eyes when he talked about Tormund and his mom. She couldn't be happier that he had people who cared about him when he needed someone to turn to.

"He seems like a very good friend to have around and his mom is a remarkable person for taking you in without hesitation. I'm happy that you found people such as them."

Sandor simply nods. He has a faraway look in his eyes, looking like he was in deep thought. As quickly as the look appears it disappears and is replaced with a gentle smile. She wants to ask him what was going on in his head but figures there is a time and place for that.

"They have sculptures upstairs if you would like to see them," Sandor says breaking her train of thoughts.

"Sounds good to me." She cannot stop herself from nuzzling more into his side, reveling in how strong he felt.

Moving around the dance floor they head up the stairs hand in hand, heading down the hall that leads to magnificent sculptures that Sansa can hardly tear her eyes away from. She is mesmerized by the marble men and women. They all appear so realistic as if they had a pulse and would move when Sansa walks closer to them.

"It's crazy how talented people can be."

Sandor chuckles. "I don't think anyone can make lemon bars as well as you can. I think you're the true artist."

Sansa let out a giggle at that and shook her head fervently. "No way. I'm not an artist at all, just a very skilled reader." She winks playfully at him and suddenly he is taking her waist in his massive hands, pulling her into him. She gasps as she collides with his chest. He searches her gaze seeing something that makes him groan. His lips crash against hers so hard their teeth clack. The passion that rolls off of him in his waves is heady and makes her feel lightheaded. Instinctively she wraps her arms around his neck, having to stand on tiptoe just to do so.

He pries her lips open with his tongue and she eagerly allows the intrusion, getting completely lost in the way he held her with unwavering strength. Sandor's kisses make her feel alive, wanted, and utterly special. She has never felt this way about anyone before and knew whenever they did take the next step that he would be an amazing lover that would tend to her every need. He is skilled with his tongue, pushing and pulling in a way that makes her knees weak and her panties dampen almost instantly.

"I thought I knew that ass from somewhere," a familiar voice says behind her, a voice that makes her blood run cold as ice. Sandor pulls away only to look over her head to see who has interrupted them. Her hands tighten on his button-down shirt, clinging almost desperately to him in an attempt to keep herself grounded. Her shallow rapid breathing is all that could be heard due to the blood pounding in her ears. She is aware that she is trembling like a leaf and her knees have gone wobbly.

"Sansa?" Sandor proclaims, worry coating his tone.

Her eyes dart up to his and she knows she must look like a deer in the headlights with the way his features contort into something akin to confusion and anger. His gaze lifts once again to the man still hovering behind her.

"Can I help you with something?" Sandor asks his voice as rough as gravel.

"I wasn't talking to you scar-face," the man she never wanted to see again sneers.

The smile that appears on Sandor's face is disconcerting. It is filled with so much untamed fury that it is almost as beautiful as it is evil. His voice is a rumble when he speaks again.

"I suggest you fuck off before I ruin that pretty face of yours."

"Sansa, are you really fucking this ugly prick?" She shudders at him calling her by name. She knows she has to gather her courage and face him. Taking a deep breath in and out she turns to face him. Sansa squares her shoulders and looks upon the face of the man that has inflicted nothing but pain and suffering on her in the past. She had been weak then and unable to fight back, now, she needs to be strong and show him that he has no power over her.

"How did prison treat you Joffrey?" Sansa asks with a wry smile, tilting her head to assess his reaction. His icy blues stare at her as if he wants to rip her head clean off her shoulders. Instead, he shrugs and runs a slim hand through his blonde hair.

"It was nothing. Mother Dearest always comes through but I'm sure you already knew that."

"Yes, I heard about how your mother paid top dollar to ensure you didn't get fucked by your fellow inmates. What a shame."

Joffrey steps towards her and is immediately intercepted by Sandor. "Take another step closer and I'll bash your skull in," Sandor snarls. His shoulders are heaving up and down as he towers over Joffrey. Sansa can see he was close to snapping and that would not fare well for either of them.

Joffrey scoffs and looks Sandor up and down before returning his cold gaze to Sansa. He is as emotionless as ever. He only found pleasure when people were in pain, it had been the only time she ever saw him smile-when he held her down and violated her. She has to force herself not to cower away from him with those thoughts in mind.

"I see you got yourself a guard dog."

"The only dog I see is you," she snaps with venom lacing her every word.

Per usual he completely ignores her and continues on with his insults. "You let this guy fuck you with his scabby cock? You truly _are_ a whor-."

Sandor's hands are around his throat before he can even finish the last word. He is lifted off his feet, eyes bulging out of skull as he flails and kicks out clawing at Sandor's hands. Sansa can hardly move from where she stood, she has never seen anything like this in her entire life. She can see the veins standing out on Sandor’s neck due to the increased adrenaline racing through him. The rage that is emanating off of him is suffocating and she knows she has to stop him but her feet are rooted to the ground and her voice fails her.

A blur of red races past her moments later. "Sandor! _Stop_! You'll fucking kill him!"

Tormund tugs on Sandor's wrist and instantly he let go of Joffrey. He fell to the ground hard and fast, wheezing and coughing as he pressed his hand to his throat. "You're dead," Joffrey gasps, stumbling to his feet.

"You fuck off!" Tormund roars, his blue eyes heated, and without another word, Joffrey ran away like the god of death is at his heels.

Tormund places his hands on Sandor's shoulders giving him a light shake. "What happened?"

Sandor shook his head and she realizes he wasn't going to say anything to him due to not wanting to break her trust by telling his best friend things he didn't have the right to tell. Her heart stutters in her chest and she has to press a hand there to rub at the ache.

"He called her a whore, was trying to pick up on her. I couldn't stop myself." Sansa does not feel good about him having to lie to his best friend but she also does not think she is ready for anyone to know her secrets.

"You can go to jail for shit like that, Sandor."

"No one calls my woman a bloody whore," Sandor growls and pulls away from Tormund. "You have fun but I think I'm going to take Sansa home. I need to cool off."

Tormund shakes his head and storms off without another word.

"I'm sorry," Sansa murmurs.

"You don't _dare_ say sorry. Tormund will understand in due time why I lied. Let's get out of here."

The drive home is quiet, he takes her to his house instead of hers and for that she is grateful. She couldn't bear to be alone right now, not after having to see Joffrey again. The whole experience has rattled her and she still doesn't understand why he had been there in the first place. Sansa hasn't even expected him to be out of prison. The years have passed by too quickly for her liking. Men like him deserved to rot in prison forever.

Once inside, Sandor pours them both a glass of whiskey. Sansa takes it, thanking him. They settle on the couch side by side. She tentatively sips at the liquor and somewhat enjoys the harsh burn that accompanies it. Sandor tosses his entire drink back and stands up abruptly. He shrugs his suit jacket off and tears at the knot of his tie. He throws the material onto the reclining chair next to the couch and begins to angrily unbutton his shirt. His hands tremble as he does so and all she wants to do is soothe the burn of violent energy still surrounding him. His shirt joins his tie and jacket.

Sandor is now completely bare from the waist up and she cannot help but admire his back which is an expanse of thick cuts and sleek lines. His ebony hair sails past the nape of his neck and touched his shoulders. Sansa longs to touch it and hold him close to her. Her face flares with heat when she drifts her eyes to his ass, it looks perfect in the slacks he wore, filling them out just right. Nibbling on her lip she jerks her gaze away as if burnt when he sat back down next to her.

She jumps a little when she feels him push her hair away from her neck, his fingertips trail over her shoulder. "See something you like, little bird?"

"What?" She stammers turning her head to look at him, seeing the way he is mesmerized by just touching her shoulder. His gaze drags up lazily to meet hers.

"I know you heard what I said," he chuckles moving his fingers up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You know how attractive I find you," she mutters, her eyes landing on the smattering of hair on his chest, down to his tapered waist, and hair-ridden stomach. She notices the slight bump hidden by the zipper of his slacks and her body is overcome by heat. She wants this man so badly it hurt. She wants to know what it feels like to be intimate with somebody that actually cherishes her and would worship her body instead of cause it harm. Sandor is a large man, and yet, she feels it deep in her soul that he would be good to her always.

Sandor's eyes soften as he angles his body towards hers. He cups the side of her face tenderly, leaning in to press his forehead to hers. "You are so beautiful, Sansa. I promise I will never let anyone hurt you ever again."

She places her hand on top of his. "I know."

He lifts his eyes to hers and then down to her lips as if memorizing them to memory. No longer able to withstand not being close to him she closes the space between their lips. He makes a strangled sound in his throat and tightens his hold on her jaw. Their lips move in time with one another, tenderness to the kiss until he opens her lips roughly with his tongue, seemingly losing the control he always seems to be so desperately holding onto. She wants him to give in and finally take her. She is ready to go past the line they had drawn. Their lips broke away on a gasp, his eyes molten lava, chest rising and falling as he held onto that thread that would cause him to pull away completely from her. Sansa doesn't want him to do that, she latches onto the desire in his eyes and uses it to help spur her on to what she does next.

Sansa bends her knee before lifting it over his thighs and lowers slowly onto his lap, placing her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. Sandor has gone slack-jawed, his features twisting with confusion. "Sansa?" It comes out strained and she notices his Adam's apple bob. He is as nervous as she is but she refuses to shy away now.

"I want you, Sandor. I want to be with you…like this."

She watches as color flares on his unscarred cheek. His pupils dilate and he swallows audibly. He is warm and muscled under her hands just like she expected him to be. He is practically a human heater and he would definitely keep her cozy on those cold, winter nights. She lowers her hand to his heart to find it racing. She smiles at him knowing she is having the same effect he is having on her.

"You don't have to do this, Sansa," he whispers, placing his hands on her thighs where the silk of her dress still clings to them. He gives them a squeeze, a little too hard to be considered pleasurable but she likes it anyway.

"I _want_ to." He makes to say something but she silences his protests by covering her mouth with his and revels in the way he moans helplessly into her mouth.

All thoughts of what happened at the museum fell away and are replaced with only Sandor. Joffrey could never hurt her again, no matter what he would try to do, she felt the fear she once had for him vanish. Sandor has replaced the pain of the past with his warmth and her heart has never felt so full. She realizes as she deepens the kiss with him that she has fallen in love with him. She thought the realization would scare her and instead found that it made her feel whole for the first time in a very, very long time…

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my tumblr 
> 
>  
> 
> [Here](https://spikeisinspace.tumblr.com/)


	11. Mile Deep Hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me!
> 
> I really hope this was worth the wait <3
> 
> Your comments give me life!!! <3333
> 
> Much love <3

                                                

 

 _**So thank you** _  
_**You need to know** _  
_**That you dragged me out** _  
_**Of a mile deep hollow** _  
_**And I love you** _  
_**You brought me home** _  
_**'Cause you dragged me out** _  
_**Of a mile deep hollow** _ 

**_∞_ **

Her lips slide against his in a tantalizing kiss that has her heart racing. Sansa has not been with a man intimately since Joffrey. He had been her first and since then she was much too afraid to even think about being with anyone else. Sandor came into her life at a strange time, a time where she still felt like she wanted to keep everyone at bay forever. The walls she built were high and mighty and she truly believed them to be impenetrable, that is until Sandor came crashing into her life. He tore down the walls she built, replacing the darkness with a light she hadn't even known she needed. Sandor makes her feel cherished, safe, and she knows in her heart that here at this moment is everything she ever wanted or needed.

Sandor grasps the ends of her dress, rolling red silk up past her thighs, and over her hips giving him an eye full of the lace panties she wears tonight. His eyes darken as he continues to drink in the sight. Sansa blushes under his perusal, feeling the need to hide from him. He seems to sense this shift in her, large hands clutch her hips, dragging her forward to the point she is now settled fully on his lap. She gasps at the contact of his hard-on pressing insistently against her.

"You feel that, Sansa?" Sandor growls in the space between their lips, his warm breath ghosting across her cheek.

"Yes," she stammers, gripping his shoulders as if they would keep her tethered to this world.

"This is all for you. Whenever you want it, you just let me know, little bird," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her jaw causing her to shudder. His mouth slides to the crest of her ear and she waits with bated breath for him to continue speaking. "You are so damn beautiful and I'm the luckiest bastard in the world to be in a position like this with you. All I can say is thank you for giving me a chance. You mean _everything_ to me."

Sansa lifts her head to meet his eyes. He stares at her adoringly. His hand lifts cupping her jaw. She breathes out and presses her cheek firmly into the warmth, drinking in all that he has to offer.

"Sandor, I want you. Not just now but forever." Sansa bit her lip at the admission. She has never wanted someone so badly in her life. The implication behind what she just said dawning on Sandor's face. She has no idea if it was too soon to admit just how much she cannot imagine not having him in her life. Still, the words are already out in the open. There is no going back.

Sandor's arm wraps around her waist pulling her towards him so that now her breasts touch his chest and his cock presses harder into the bundle of nerves between her legs.

"Forever?" Sandor whispers a hint of awe laces his tone.

"Yes," she confesses, her heart beating frantically.

Suddenly, he pulls her head down and kisses her so passionately it knocks the breath out of her.

This kiss is nothing like the sweet and tender ones they have shared in this past. This kiss is rough and filled with a hunger she has never felt before.

The spot between her legs is now drenched and throbbing relentlessly. On instinct, she rocks her hips forward. Sandor gasps, his hips roll insistently against her own at the contact. Goosebumps line her skin, feeling just how hard he is for her causing her to lose all rational thought.

Her hands find purchase on his chest, sinking her fingers into the hair there, loving how soft it felt. A total contrast to the man beneath her who is all hard ridges and scarred skin. She loves everything about Sandor, not just his body, but his soul, his mind, and the things that make him who he was. He may be short-tempered with mostly everyone but, with her, he is gentle and kind, something she has never experienced before with a man.

Sansa is not used to the adoration that shines in his grey eyes or the way he holds her like he cannot imagine ever letting her go. The act of sex has been one she feared ever since she escaped from Joffrey's cruelty. All she has ever known is how it feels to be pushed down, used and abused. Every touch of Sandor's calloused fingers brings a wave of peace and relief over her. The scars on her soul are beginning to heal with every kiss and the ones on her heart ebbing as he whispers sweet nothings in her ear.

Sansa lowers her hands to the muscles of his stomach feeling it clench. She strokes the thin strip of hair that leads to a place she is desperate to touch. Sandor tears his lips from hers. She watches as his breathing becomes heavier and his eyes darken with need.

She knows at that moment exactly what she wants to do for him. With no hesitation, she lowers on her knees before him, loving the way his brow pulls in at the middle. He licks his bottom lip, biting down on it when her hands find his belt. She tugs at it, her hands shaking so much due to how nervous she has become. The fast rise and fall of his stomach draws her attention to it, then up to his face where his jaw is clenched tight and his nostrils flare.

Sansa notes that his entire body is trembling. She is confused as to why he seems terrified and upset all at the same time.

"Do you not want this?" She asks, her voice shaking just as bad as her hands.

Sandor laughs bitterly. "If I said I didn't want this, then I'd be the biggest liar to walk this earth."

"Am I doing something wrong?" She murmurs feeling stupid for even trying to attempt this for him. She doesn't know what she is doing. She has never done this before.

"Sansa, this isn't about you. I'm just confused as to why you even want to do this for me."

"I want to do this because I _want_ to make you feel good." Saying those words out loud gives her the confidence she needs to steady her hands. She undoes the buckle, pulling the leather strap from its confinement. With sure fingers, she tugs the button of his slacks open and zips it down, careful to avoid catching it on the skin. Her eyes grow wide once she realizes he wore no underwear, his cock springs free, slapping against his belly. Sandor releases a harsh breath and slightly lifts his hips to push his pants down over his hips. Sansa helps him, letting them pool at his ankles before moving back into his space. She places her palms on his thighs and squeezes them, reveling in how solid they were.

Sansa finally takes in his cock that stands proud where it rests on his stomach. It is tan like the rest of him, the head a shade lighter. Thick and long, her mouth waters at the veins that stand pronounced against the skin. They throbbed, his cock twitching at her perusal. Holding tight to his thighs, she leans forward, her tongue darting out, licking a trail from base to tip. Sandor groans loud and guttural, his hand shot out clutching the side of her face forcing her to look up at him.

"Fuck, Sansa, you don't have to do this," he insists, a confliction of emotions warring with each other clear in his dark eyes.

Sansa chooses to ignore him. She takes the base of him in a gentle grip, wrapping her lips around the tip she sucks and swirls her tongue allowing her body to act on instinct. His thumb smoothes over her jaw and she opens her mouth wider, her tongue running along the underside of his cock.  He let out a stream of profanities that spur her on. She takes as much as she can into her mouth, gagging when he hits her throat. She feels Sandor go rigid beneath her hand, harsh panting filled her ears, and suddenly his fingers are threading through her hair. She understands that is a hint to keep going.

She begins to suck in earnest, using her hand to give pleasure to the length that she can't fit in her mouth. His breathing becomes more labored, the hand in her hair flexing whenever she licks the vein on the underside of his cock. Sansa begins to twist her hand near the base of his cock and Sandor lets out a breathless moan. Her eyes lift to see his eyes fixed on her, unwavering in their desire and need.

"Damn it, Sansa. Don't look at me like that," he huskily says his hand tightening in her hair.

She keeps eye contact with him as she licks a strip along his tip. His eyes dart to her tongue, becoming even more hooded as he did so. She begins to move her hand up and down painstakingly slow. Enjoying the low growl that escapes him. "Do not fucking tease me, little bird."

She smiles in her head, slipping her other hand up his thigh to cup his balls giving them a gentle tug that startles him.

Sansa craves the reactions she pulls out of him, wanting to know every single way she can bring this burly man pleasure. His natural musky smell is intoxicating. He tastes much better than she thought he would. The silky skin of his cock a perfect contrast to how he is hard as steel. Sansa wouldn't mind giving him head every single day for the rest of her life, she didn't care how much her jaw would ache. She would gladly do it without complaint just to see him writhing with the need to come.

Without warning she encases his cock back into the warmth of her mouth, he releases a strangled sound. The hand that fists her hair releases and cups the back of her head instead, pressing down gently to bury more of his length inside her mouth. He begins to thrust shallowly and Sansa relaxes her jaw to allow him to do so, her hand still working in time with his movements. She wants to take all of him even though she knows she will probably gag. She places both hands back on his thighs and urges with a hum for him to keep going.

"S-Sansa," he stammers his hips stuttering before becoming a tad more erratic.

He pushes her head down, thrusting in and out of her mouth making sounds that heated her blood in the best way possible. He jerks his hips forward and she relaxes her throat, her nose becomes buried in the curls at the base of his cock. Sansa sputters around him and he immediately grasps her hair tugging her back so that she can breathe. She coughs, desperately trying to suck in air.

"I'm sorry, little bird. I got carried away." He is panting as if he just swam across the Atlantic Ocean and back. Sandor moves his hand from her hair to her cheek,  sliding his thumb back and forth across her bottom lip. She gains her composure, giving him a shy smile, leaning into his palm.

"I liked it."

Sandor throws his head back unceremoniously, not caring when it thuds against the headrest of the couch. "You're killing me."

Sansa stands, his hand falling away from her. Gathering her courage she grabs the end of her dress and pulls it up and over her head. She clutches the material to her chest seeing that Sandor has returned his gaze to her. Taking a deep breath in and out, she lets the dress fall to the ground. Sandor's dark eyes trail over her collarbone, down to the rise and fall of her chest where she wears no bra. He seems to admire that part of her for what feels like a century until he finally drags his eyes down to the lace that covers the last shards of her modesty.

"You are so beautiful, Sansa. You look like a fucking angel standing before me."

Sansa flushes bright red from head to toe. She shakes her head refusing to run now due to her embarrassment at being so vulnerable in front of such a hulking man. Hooking her thumbs into the hem of her panties she pushes them down her long legs and kicks them off to the side. He blows out a harsh breath, extending a hand to her. She can see the tremors that run through his arm. She places her delicate hand in his and he gently pulls her towards him. She places one knee on either side of his hips and lowers in his lap feeling his erection against her stomach.

His hands find purchase on her waist, their eyes meet and she sees the longing and desire in them, certain they match her own. His mouth is on hers before she can think twice about the position they are in. Her brain catches up with what is happening and she returns the kiss with equal fervor. She wraps her arms around his neck, reveling in the heat of his body pressed against her own.

Sandor is in full control of the kiss, tasting her like he cannot get enough of her essence. His tongue darts out, licking at her lips, seeking entry. She opens her mouth, moaning when he slips it inside meeting her tongue in a desperate exchange. Sansa feels a jolt of need shoot down between her legs, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip.

Suddenly, Sansa feels her heart become full of a feeling she has never experienced in her entire life. She knows how it feels to love her family or her business, her customers, but this feeling rivals everything she thought she has known. The swooping sensation that tugs at every fiber of her being is overwhelming. It confuses her and makes her cling even tighter to Sandor. Her hands bury in his hair, tugging at the strands with a need to erase any space between them. Her lips attack his, hard and fast enough that it almost hurt when she did so. Sandor is caught off guard with the way he gasps, her tongue delving inside. The kiss is messy with the strong scent of the whiskey they had both consumed, their billowing breaths all that can be heard in the room. 

Sandor pulls away from the kiss moments later, Sansa tries to follow but his hands clasp her jaw halting her movement forward. "Look at me," Sandor says softly as if he is soothing a wounded animal.

With a defiant look, she lifts her gaze to his. A small smile appears on his frustratingly handsome face and she softens slightly under his warm stare. "What's wrong, little bird?"

The breath whooshes out of her, her hand goes to her chest right where her heart lay beneath. It feels like someone has reached inside of her and put it in a vice grip making it hard for her to breathe properly. She doesn't want to think about the fact she has fallen in love with him. At first, it had made her feel whole and excited. Now, she is scared to bare that side to him. It makes her feel vulnerable to the point it is too hard to handle or process. She fears his rejection. She tries to kiss him to stop all the talking, he doesn't allow her to, and she lets out a frustrated huff of air.

"Talk to me, Sansa. I want to know what's going on in your head. You're acting differently."

They are completely naked talking about this, it makes her laugh mirthlessly. She watches as his mouth turns into a frown, a scowl between his brows. "I don't want to talk about this right now, Sandor."

"I need to know what caused this shift. I can't go through with this unless I know that this is a hundred percent what you want."

"Of course I _want_ you," she hisses and shakes her head at the outburst.

"Sansa, you know I would never hurt you. I would never do anything to make you feel like you aren't enough. I'm just happy to be like this with you in the first place. You make me feel wanted and that is something I've never experienced. You are the only woman that has ever looked me in the eyes while in an intimate position and you are the first to ever reward me with…you know," he cut off with a shrug of his shoulders and Sansa understands that she had been the first one to ever go down on him. The realization makes her want to punch all the women that had treated him badly. It somehow gives her the courage to say what she needs to.

"I love you," she blurts and feels him tense beneath her. It makes her want to cry with how still he has gone, unable to meet his eyes, she moves to get off of him but his hands come down hard on her hips holding her in place.

"Gods, Sansa, tell me you mean that," he says sounding almost anguished.

She nibbles on her lower lip, keeping her eyes cast to the side, and nods. He exhales a shaky breath and begins to nuzzle her neck with his nose before pressing delicate kisses to the skin there.

"I love you too, Sansa, I love you so _fucking_ much it hurts."

She gasps, his teeth biting hard into her shoulder as he grinds his hardened member into her silky heat. His breathing quickens as does hers. His large hands smooth up and down her sides, one breaking away to cup her breast. His thumb skims back and forth over her nipple, his lips tracing over her collar bones. His free hand presses into her lower back causing her to arch into him. She grips his shoulders, letting her head fall back as he sucks a trail down her sternum to her breast where he takes her nipple between his teeth. He bites down gently, soothing the ache with his tongue.

"I want you inside me," Sansa moans rocking into him, his cock sliding back and forth through her folds.

"Yes," he growls grabbing her ass in a firm grip. He lifts her just enough to press the tip of his cock against her opening. Her fingers dig into his shoulders leaving little crescent moons in the skin. He doesn't react to the pain she knows she causes. He is too entranced by the way her tight hole spreads around his head as he begins to push inside her. She moans in rapture as he enters her, dark eyes fixed on her face now. Her eyes drift shut, her walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock. The descent down feels like it takes ages until finally, she bottoms out, her ass touching his thighs. She feels impossibly full and breathes through the slight pain that this coupling brings her.

"Look at me, little bird." Sandor's lust-filled voice makes her open her eyes, staring down at him with all the love she feels for him. She can see the way his jaw is clenched, a slight twitch underneath his good eye. The muscles in his neck are straining with his barely constrained control.

" _Please_ , I want you to fuck me," he says through gritted teeth.

Sansa feels powerful for the first time in her life knowing just how badly he wants and needs her. The lust that washes over her heats her from the inside and out. She flexes her inner walls and smirks at the heady groan that escapes him. Sandor wraps his arms around her, moving to lie on his back, keeping himself rooted firmly inside of her. He lets go of her, returning his hands to her hips, and looks up at her, begging with his eyes for her to fuck him. Sansa braces her hands on his burly chest, savoring the hair that touches her palms.

She begins to tentatively find her rhythm, unsure of how to move. Sandor grips her hips harder and guides her movements. Understanding what would bring them both pleasure she starts to work her hips up and down. She takes him deep inside of her over and over again, crying out when he hits a spot in her that causes overwhelming pleasure. She curls her fingers in his chest hair, rocking back and forth on his cock, finding that the hair that covers the base of it hits her clit every time she does so.

"Yes, _fuck_ , yes, Sansa!"

She moans in return, her hips moving erratically. His control seems to snap as he bucks his hips up into her eliciting a strangled cry from her lips. He digs his fingers into her hips urging her to ride him faster and harder than before. The sensation of his cock hitting deep inside of her while his hair insistently presses against her bundle of nerves is all too much to take. She can feel her release cresting.

"I'm going to come," she whimpers against his lips. Both Sandor's hands thread into her hair, forcing her to look at him as they continue to move their bodies in time with each other.

"Wanna see your face when you come all over my cock," he grunts, grinding his cock into her in a way that is making her see white light behind her eyes. Her body goes stiff as a board and her release crashes over. She falls forward onto his chest, moaning into his neck, not caring about the sweat that covers him as she does so.

Sandor holds her tight to him, slowly rolling his hips into her, letting her ride out the pleasure of her release.

"Fuck, baby, you're so damn tight," Sandor groans.

"I want you to come," she says, nipping at his pulse point, still completely sated by her release. Then she continues. "I want you to come inside me. I'm on the pill."

"Shit, I didn't even think about protection." Sandor shook his head, a look of disappointment in his eyes.

"Well, I'm clean…and I'm assuming you are too? Hopefully," she laughs.

"Yes, I always wear a condom. I just wanted you so damn bad that all rational thought flew out the window."

She smiles down at him. "Then there is nothing to worry about. So hurry up and fill me up with your cum big boy."

His eyes become hooded. "That shouldn't have turned me on but it fucking did." Sansa gasps as he pulls out of her and turns her on her stomach. He grasps her hips forcing her on her knees and without another word he slams back into her filling her up to the hilt. Sansa huffs out a shaky breath as he begins to plunge into her over and over again. In this position he hits even deeper than before, it is a strange mix of pleasure and pain.

Sansa is face down on the couch, enjoying what he is giving her. He startles her when one hand slams down by her face the other grasping the inside arm of the couch to give him better leverage. His lips hungrily kiss down her spine and back up, leaving little marks as he does so. His large body cages her in, his chest pressing against her back. She can hear him panting by her ear and the sound goes straight to her core. Her walls tighten around him, his thrusts becoming more erratic. She can feel him growing larger inside of her, a feat that she didn't believe possible. One arm wraps across her chest as he lifts to his knees dragging her with him. He surges up inside of her, his other hand cupping her jaw turning her face as his lips descend upon hers.

She moans helplessly into his mouth, his cock touching a place inside of her that brings forth another release. He whimpers as her walls clutch even tighter to him, thrusting frantically into her until she felt his cock pump her full of his release.

"Sansa," he breathes, his hand slips away from her jaw and his head falls forward onto her shoulder.

They stay like that for a moment longer till they both grow uncomfortable and part to clean themselves off. They gather their clothes and Sansa follows him into his room. Both of them throw their clothes down, slipping into bed together. She cuddles into his side, his warm arms wrap around her to pull her closer into him.

"I'm the luckiest fool alive," Sandor laughs into the quiet space of his room.

"I'm the luckiest fool alive as well," Sansa repeats and they dissolve into a fit of laughter that soon turns into a pressing of lips that leads into another round of making love.

They both breathe hard, a smile on both of their faces until sleep takes them under.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO


	12. To Be Loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I was gone for a very long time and for that I am truly sorry. However, I have been super busy in my personal life and am back in school so that has been taking up most of my time. This chapter is short but I hope you all enjoy it anyway. I will be wrapping this story up soon. Still, due to being so busy, I'm not sure when the final chapters will be done. 
> 
> Thank you to everybody that has been so patient and stuck with me even after this prolonged wait :)
> 
> Much love <3

                                                    

_**Waking up** _   
_**Thinking of what it is to be loved** _   
_**I take flight, where you hold me** _   
_**Is that how you show me** _   
_**How it's like to be loved?** _

Sandor sips on a beer waiting patiently at the bar for Sansa to show up. His thoughts remain fixed on the girl he is madly in love with. They have been together for months now, ever since that night at the museum things has changed indefinitely. The intimacy they share has been more than just physical. Every touch crept into the soul of him, every kiss feels like a gift, and every labored breath they share in the small space between their lips breathes new life into him.

As the days pass by, that intimacy only grows. The road to their newfound love has been rough, bumpy. Now, together, everything fell into place with ease. They hardly argue and if they do it is over small things that are smoothed over with a few kisses that always lead to something more.

Sansa brightens Sandor's life in a way he could have never predicted. His decision to go into that tiny bakery instead of the high-end chain he always went to, has led him to everything he always wanted for himself- a woman that would love him even with the scars.

Tonight she has to work a little later at the bakery doing inventory, so they have decided to meet up instead of him picking her up like he normally did. The bartender asks him if he wants another drink, he declines, deciding he'd rather wait for Sansa to arrive before delving into another beer.

It is about ten minutes later when she flounces through the door, her red locks in a ponytail, tight blouse giving him an eyeful, and her knee-length skirt causes a stirring down below. He stands as she approaches, a wide smile is on her face, and he can't help but return it.

"Hi love," she murmurs pressing up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. Even chaste kisses can make him hot all over. He clears his throat, nodding at the stool beside him.

"What would you like to drink?"

"Hmm, I'll have what you are having."

Sandor smiles, the bartender walks back over and he orders two 805's. They sip on them in relative silence for a few moments.

"So, how was inventory?" Sandor asks licking foam from his top lip.

Sansa sighs, leaning her chin on her palm. "It was extensive and tiring. It is my least favorite part of the job."

"I bet. How is your new employee?"

Sansa lit up a little. "Oh, she's great! She has taken on so much. I don't know what I'd do without her."

Sansa's bakery has begun to bring in a lot more revenue as of late, allowing her to finally bring in some help. Sandor has only met Shae once or twice in passing, her personality as strong as her accent. Shae helps Sansa come up with new ideas at the bakery and for that, he is grateful to the woman. However, he can tell she finds him unsightly. She doesn't have a problem looking him in the eyes but he knows she thought Sansa is too good for him. The fact doesn't bother him as much as he thought it would. All he cares about is Sansa and her affections towards him, everyone else can politely fuck off.

"I think you would be fine without her, Sansa. You tend to sell yourself short."

Sansa scoffs, waving a hand in front of her face. "Trust me I don't think there is any way that bakery would survive without her. I'm only one person, Sandor."

Sandor's mouth curls up at one side, he shakes his head, taking her small hand in his large one. He presses a kiss to her palm, meeting her blue gaze, seeing the love in them. "You may be one person but you are the strongest one I know."

Sandor watches as her eyes darken as they wander over his face. He knows what that look means. The air becomes charged around them as they continue to look at one another without breaking eye contact. Sansa's eyes briefly flicker behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he sees the dimly lit hallway that would lead to the bathrooms. A wicked smirk crosses his face as he returns his attention to her. Sansa nibbles on her lip as she waits for him to make the next move.

The bar is a bit more crowded than usual, the bartender distracted. Sandor always paid in cash, so, two abandoned beers wouldn't mean much. Without further hesitation, he helps her off the stool, leading her down the hallway to a spot where no one would see them as long as they stay relatively quiet.

Sandor slams her up against the wall, a gasp escaping her as he does so. He cups her jaw in his hands, his thumbs trailing back and forth over her cheekbones. He can't help but admire her long lashes a shade darker than the hair on her head and the smatter of freckles that race over her nose. His eyes flicker down to her rosy lips that always beckon him to kiss her breathless. Sansa is without a doubt the most beautiful woman he ever has had the honor of laying his eyes on. He may never truly understand why she chose him but he would never let his insecurities get in the way of his love for her ever again.

Sandor presses his body closer to her, not wasting any more time as he leans in and claims her lips in a kiss steepled in blatant passion. Letting go of her face, he skims his hands down her sides allowing her to reach up and tangle her arms around his neck. His thumbs smooth over the material of the blouse, stroking his thumbs under the cusps of her breasts, groaning when her tongue slides across the seam of his lips. He opens his mouth, the kiss becoming more heated as they war for dominance.

One hand drifts to her hip, settling there and pulling her closer. His erection digs into her stomach, seeking relief. Sansa inhales sharply no doubt feeling his desire for her. They broke away from the kiss, both panting hard.

"I love you," he breathes. Pressing his forehead to hers they share the same breath for a moment.

"I love you too," she replies sinking her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, giving it a slight tug. It yanks a growl out of him, his nails sinking into the flesh at her hip.

He returns the action, twisting her hair around his fist, pulling her head back. Her brows furrow in need, her breath quickening as she stares up at him. Sandor presses a kiss to the underside of her jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the delicate skin of her neck. He sucks a bruising kiss into the skin between where her neck and shoulder meet. She bucks against him setting everything in motion.

The air becomes electrified, their mouths find each other in a maddening kiss that promises very, very good things to come. His hands slip under her skirt cupping the tender flesh of her ass. He gives a hard squeeze, eliciting a deep moan from her throat that he swallows down with a groan of his own.

"I _need_ you to fuck me," Sansa begs, her hands coming between them, trembling as they reach for his belt buckle. With hasty movements she undoes it, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans in the process. Sandor notices how bad she is shaking. He gently pushes her hands out of the way to pull himself out of the confinements of his jeans and boxers.

Sandor wraps his arm around her waist, easily lifting her off her feet while using the wall to help balance her. Sansa immediately wraps her legs around his waist, her thighs cradling his hips. Her skirt is now bunched up to her hips, he can see that her panties have become drenched. The sight is enough to make him almost shoot his load. He shoves her panties to the side, slipping his fingers through the slick that has accumulated there.

"Always so _fucking_ wet for me, little bird," he growls, rubbing her back and forth. Finding her entrance, he sinks two fingers into the hilt, releasing the breath he has been holding in.

"Sandor," she pleads. His pulse is beating mad, removing his fingers from inside her to take hold of his cock. They both gasp at the contact of him pressing against her opening, their eyes meet, and a spark ignites between them. Their passion, their lust, their love for one another is enough to defeat anything thrown at them.

He watches as he slowly pushes inside, the head of his cock disappearing into her. Her warmth encases him, inviting him to take her. Suddenly, he snaps his hips forward, being rewarded with a heady moan from her lips. Her walls are fluttering like mad to accommodate all of him. She claws at his neck, her eyes screwed shut, her blouse not enough to hide the tops of her breasts as her chest heaves up and down.

He slams his lips against hers in a desperate attempt to get even closer to her. He kisses her hungrily, remaining completely still as he savors her honey flavored essence.

Then before he even realizes it, he is thrusting in and out of her, their tongues entwined in a greedy dance. She is so wet that he keeps sliding into her with ease, the clench of her muscles spurring him to go faster, rougher. When the back of her head hits the wall with enough force to stop him, he reaches up cradling the back of it slowing down his frantic fucking.

"I'm sorry," he says huskily, his hips rolling in small, lazy thrusts. He plants a soft kiss upon her cheek, nuzzling behind her ear enough to make her giggle.

"I'm fine, Sandor, keep going." He pulls back to see a bright smile on her face. Her lips are swollen from the onslaught of kisses shared between them, her long red hair a mess from his hands. The sight makes his blood burn, his stomach tightens in anticipation of the release that would occur with her.

He pulls out slightly, only to push back into her hard and fast. He buries his face in the crook of Sansa's neck, inhaling her sweet, strawberry scent that only suffices to make him dizzier with lust. He begins to propel himself into her with a force that surprises him, his knuckles press into the wall as he continues to secure the back of her head. He is panting into the skin of her neck, changing her breathing with every thrust while trying to keep a level head. That proves to be difficult, everything around them falls away to the point he has forgotten they are in the hallway of a bar where anyone can find them. The thought of being caught only makes more heat build-up in his lower stomach.

Sandor wraps his arm around her waist, pressing until their chests touch and there is hardly an inch of space between their stomachs. He is fucking up into her as if his life depended on it, she is trying in vain to keep her moans quiet. Her walls are clenching, a sign that her release is not far off. Sandor grounds his pelvis in a way that the hair that surrounds the base of him hits her clit every time he presses into her, she moans loudly at the sensation he knows he is creating.

Her inner walls squeeze him tight, he chokes at the feeling, his arm tightening around her waist as her muscles begin to throb. Her body goes rigid, a moment later relaxing as her release crashes over her. She is deadweight now, it doesn't matter because he is just as close as she was. He releases a breathy growl, slamming into her until he feels his balls tighten. Sweat trickles down his spine, intense pressure, then immediate relief as he finds his release deep inside of her.

They are both panting, exhausted from the efforts of their coupling. Sandor presses his forehead against hers, allowing them both to come down from the high. Eventually, he slips out of her, gently lowering her back to her feet. She wobbles slightly, he doesn't let go of her until he feels that she has her balance. Her icy blues drift down the hallway, his follow noting they have not been caught. He slips his flaccid cock back into his jeans, both fixing themselves until they are properly dressed.

Taking her hand, they leave the bar seeing that everybody is lost in their own worlds, completely unaware that they had just fucked in the hallway. They both laugh as he walks her to her car.

"Well, that was interesting," Sansa says leaning back against her car, beaming up at him.

"Yes, yes it was. Perhaps we can do that again sometime?" He shoves his hands into his pockets, feeling a little like a child for the question.

She merely nods. "Yeah, perhaps we can. I need to get some sleep but let's hang out tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is fine with me."

Sandor gently takes her face in his hands, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her lips, one filled with adoration instead of desire. When they pull away they are both smiling.

He helps her into her car, watching her drive away, knowing without a doubt that she would be the one he spent the rest of his life with.

∞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO <3

**Author's Note:**

> XOXO


End file.
